


Snakebit and Karmic

by XandriaLette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Flying, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Head Boys & Head Girls, Hogwarts Prefects, Love, Making Out, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Masturbation in Shower, Quidditch, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption, Romance, Running, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Snogging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XandriaLette/pseuds/XandriaLette
Summary: The Second Wizarding War is over and a Hermione Granger is going back to Hogwarts without the rest of the Golden Trio to complete her education. While adjusting to her newfound loneliness, she seems to keep running into the former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy.UPDATES EVERY THURSDAY. :)
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 37
Kudos: 112





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please be gentle with me, this is the first fic I’ve written in years. I tend to re-write my chapters several times. I’m still working on getting an idea of how long this is going to be, but I wanted to start posting chapters, or I would endlessly re-write them. That being said, constructive criticism is welcome, especially in terms of formatting. (It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything but poetry.) Please just make sure any criticism is KIND and CONSTRUCTIVE, thank you!! <3  
> \- - - - -
> 
> I really want to show both sides of this story, so I plan on switching POVs each chapter. Odd chapters will belong to Hermione, even chapters will belong to Draco.

Hermione tightened her grip on the cup of lavender tea in front of her as she began to chew at a small piece of dead skin on her lip. She felt the wind start to pick up and lightly pull her hair and the steam from her cup danced and twirled in front of her. She continued to chew at her lip as she was transfixed by the performance before her.

“H-Hermione. . .?” Ron quietly stuttered out, breaking her concentration.

Hermione's gaze shifted back to him, everything snapping quickly into focus. She looked at Ron, still in disbelief of what she saw. Ron sat across from her, holding a small, velvet box open in his hand. His arm was extended towards her so she could see the ring within it. It was a simple ring with a thin golden band, a classic round ruby was settled between two small diamonds on either side. It was quite simple, but timelessly elegant. Hermione’s eyes lingered on the ring for a bit longer, then she finally met Ron’s gaze.

“Will you marry me, Hermione?” Ron choked out, once more, with a slight chuckle, “I, uh, didn't really think I would have to ask that twice.”

“Ron,” Hermione audibly swallowed, “Are you. . . Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“What do you mean, ‘Mione?” He let his arm fall back to the table, “Of course, I-I wouldn’t be asking if I weren’t sure. I mean—“ he gestured his hand holding the ring box at her, “I got the ring and everything. I spent a long time picking it out, I’m sure, Hermione. I’m sure.”

”I’m sorry, I should have asked a better question,” Hermione shifted in her seat and pushed a few loose curls behind her ear, “I guess what I should have asked is, uhm, why do you want to marry me?”

Ron looked at her, setting the ring down and leaning back in his seat. His eyes widened and his gaze seemed to shift off into the distance as he let out a breath and said, “For Merlin’s sake, Hermione, you’re the only witch that would meet a proposal with a pop quiz.”

Hermione’s mouth curled at the corner as she stifled a laugh, “Ronald, I’m being serious. I-I think this is a bit much. . .”

“What do YOU mean, Hermione?” Ron let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re my best friend, you make me a better person, and I love you, Hermione. Why would me wanting to marry you be ‘a bit much?’”

She went back to gripping her tea, focusing again on the dance of its steam, “I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, but doesn’t it feel a bit too, a bit too. . . convenient?” 

“Convenient. . .What do you mean?” His tone turned more serious.

“I mean—“ Hermione chewed her lip, “Two best friends who met at school, who didn’t get along at first but grew to be like family, then experienced the tragedies of war together, but ultimately survived by relying on one another,” she took a breath, searching for the right words, “Doesn’t it seem kind of. . .cliche? For the two of them to get married in the end?” She lifted her head to see Ron’s reaction, but he merely kept his gaze in the distance, stone faced. She let out a sigh as she came to her own realizations, “Ron, I love you. I really do, but I think the war made it feel so much more intense than it actually is.”

Ron’s eyes had a slight glisten to them as he let out a dry laugh, “You think I only love you because of the war?” His gaze fell to Hermione’s eyes.

“No, Ron, I don’t think that,” she reached out and grabbed his hand, he didn’t hold hers back, but didn’t stop her gesture, “. . .but I do think it had an effect on us. We didn’t know if we were going to make it out of the war alive. . . Do you know how many people in the Muggle world got married before and after wars? So many people are scared to die or are so relieved they’re alive that they rush into marriages, and I just think—“

“Hermione.” Ron interrupted briefly, but she merely took a breath and continued.

“I know that we love each other  _ and  _ I know during the war I wanted nothing more than to be with you, safely on the other side of things—“

“. . . ‘Mione.” He interrupted again, as she began to get worked up.

“—but I think it’s just too convenient. I will never not love you, but I don’t think it’s the type of love that constitutes a marriage. I love you and I love Harry, too, and I always want to be in your lives, but—“

“HERMIONE.” Ron raised his voice a bit and squeezed her hand. She stopped and looked at him, his face was more calm and he had a small, solemn smile. “As always Hermione, you’re right.”

“I’m. . .what now?” Hermione searched his face for signs of hidden emotions but could find nothing but a calm demeanor on his face.

“You’re right. I didn’t realize it until you said it,” he shifted back in his seat, letting go of her hand, “but you’re right. I think I was confusing the relief and gratitude of being alive with love.” He let out a dry chuckle, “I told myself countless times throughout the war, ‘If I can make it through this, I’ll propose to Hermione. If she lives through this, I swear I’ll marry her.’” He said, waving his finger through the air sternly. “I thought those were my genuine feelings, but now that you say all that,” he ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the base of his neck, “I think it was my only way of keeping my strength, to have something to look forward to, something to hold in my heart.” He looked up at her and gave a small smile.

“I did, too. We all needed something to keep hope alive. I think it’s natural that we would gravitate towards one another when looking for comfort.” Hermione’s eyes wouldn’t move from his as she felt a sting in her eyes.

“It really was convenient, wasn’t it? Of all the girls in Hogwarts, the one I happened to meet on the train in First Year is the one I placed all my hopes on.” Ron smiled warmly at her.

“I’m sorry, Ron. A marriage of convenience is not exactly what every little girl dreams of,” they both laughed, “but it was an absolute honor to be asked.” She reached out and he met her hand with his. He leaned forward, wrapping both hands around hers, stroking the back lightly with one of his thumbs.

“Are you sure, Hermione?” He looked her in the eyes and she nodded confidently as tears began to pool on her bottom lid. Ron let out a small sigh and squeezed her hands, “Well, it was lovely while it lasted. Thank you,” Ron audibly swallowed, “for everything you’ve done for me, for all the joy, for all the,” his voice cracked, “hope you’ve given me. I hope you know I still love you and you will always be my best friend, even if it’s a little. . .inconvenient.” Ron rolled his eyes and smiled with the last word. Hermione laughed and the tears shook free and rolled down her cheeks.

“Thank you, too, Ron. You’ll never know how much you mean to me,” she sniffed, “you’re my best friend, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron smiled warmly at her, squeezed her hand a little longer, then leaned over to wipe her tears, “Shouldn’t I be the one crying? I’m the one who just got dumped.”

She rolled her eyes a bit and wiped them on the sleeve of her jumper, “ _ Ronald.” _

“I’m just teasing, don’t hex me,” he laughed. He put his hands flat on the table and with a small exhale he stood up, “I think I should get going.”

Hermione looked up at him, “Oh, right. That makes sense.” Her hands found her mug again, “How do we—?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me tell my family, if you could refrain from telling any of the Order, especially Harry. . .so that he won’t tell Ginny before I can speak with them, I would. . .I would really appreciate that,” Ron looked up at her.

“Of course, Ron, anything you need.”

“I’m also. . I’m also going to need some time to adjust. . . Seeing you after this,” he scratched the back of his head, “I’m just going to need some time.”

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat suddenly, she winced a bit, then nodded, “I understand.”

“Thanks, ‘Mione. I’ll send you an owl once I’ve spoken with everyone.” Ron shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you need me to take you home?”

“Oh—no, I have some errands to run anyways, so you go on ahead.” She forced a smile up at him.

“Okay, then I’ll get going.” He started to turn away.

“Wait!” Hermione spat out, grabbing at the ring box on the table and pushing it towards him, “You almost forgot this.”

He smiled weakly and took it from her, opening the box and gazing at the ring. Ron took the ring out gingerly and held it up to the sun and smirked.

“It’s really beautiful,” Hermione said quietly, “I should have said that earlier. You have quite good taste in jewelry.” 

He laughed and looked at Hermione, moving closer towards her. He reached out and pulled her right hand into his, then slipped the ring quickly onto her finger.

“Ron, what are—?”

“This ring is meant for you. I want you to keep it.” He clasped his hand around hers and over the ring.

“Ron—“

“It’s not any kind of symbol or promise or anything, it doesn't mean you’re accepting me. Just think of it as a gift from one friend to another,” he smiled painfully and looked down at his feet, then back to her, “it would hurt too much to keep it, it was always meant for you.”

Hermione felt the tears stinging her eyes again, and she squeezed Ron’s hand tightly and rose to meet him, “Thank you, Ron. I’ll cherish it.” He released her hand and she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He returned the favor and they lingered there for a few moments before Ron let go. He took a step back and Hermione could see the tears in his eyes.

“Well, I’ll be off then,” Ron wiped his nose nonchalantly and turned slowly away from her. He looked over his shoulder and met her gaze once more, “Bye, ‘Mione.”

“Bye, Ron.” She gave a small wave and he continued to walk away from her, she watched him with a forced smile on her face until he vanished. Hermione let out a big breath as she collapsed back into her chair and started to sob.


	2. False Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos or bookmarked so far!!<3 Just wanted to pop in to remind that I’m flopping POVs, this chapter we get Draco! It’s a little longer, so please bare with it! :)
> 
> P.S.  
> I’m planning on updating every Thursday, time of day may vary, but that’s my goal!

Draco pulled at the collar of his jumper, a simple mock turtleneck. He huffed and shifted uncomfortably. “Bloody hell, it’s not nearly cold enough for this.” He mumbled to himself as he continued his walk through the graveyard on the uneven cobblestone path, joined only by the sound of his heels clicking against the stones.

It was his first time out of Malfoy Manor unaccompanied since his trials were over. He was aware that he should be grateful in this moment. Grateful that he wasn’t in Azkaban next to his father, grateful that he wasn’t under guarded house arrest with his mother. Yet, he still felt unlucky to be the one having to come to the graveyard today. If it weren’t for his mother’s tear filled eyes, he wouldn’t be here at all. He never could quite object to her and it had only gotten worse since she became so. . .broken.

Draco shook the image of his distraught mother from his mind and silently acknowledged how nice it was to be left alone with his own thoughts. He wandered around the grounds until he found the plots belonging to the Black Family. He studied them each carefully. The tombstones were grand and picturesque, but he couldn’t help but notice a few empty plots and imagine what kind of tombstones he and his parents would have had. Surely his father already had them ordered and stashed away somewhere. They were likely more grandiose and eloquent than those currently present. Draco sneered and focused back on the task at hand, despite how beautiful the marble structures were, they were currently plagued by weeds, vines, splattered mud, and some had obscenities carved into them.

“Serves you right, Auntie.” He spat as he stood in front of Bellatrix’s grave, taking in the crude vandalism carved into her headstone. He let out a sigh and looked at all the graves in their various conditions of neglect and abuse, “Let’s get this over with.” Draco unsheathed his wand from his pocket, this act also warranted a feeling of graciousness from him, but he let out an annoyed grunt instead as he went to work, slowly and silently charming the debris away.

The past few months had been difficult, trial after trial for Draco and his family had felt like an enternity. His family name splashed throughout every headline for weeks. His mother crying and his father still carrying himself with a false sense of pride was all Draco could recall between the endless questioning and flash bulbs. That pride was ultimately what landed his father in Azkaban for a year, before his case would be revisited based on his behavior. His mother was saved from Azkaban by a handful of testimonies that suggested she had never completely aligned herself with the Dark Lord, but she was to be kept under house arrest until the Ministry was certain she could be trusted. 

Draco was lucky, he was simply put on parole. As long as he followed the restrictions he still had most of his freedoms. He was lucky that so many had testified in his favor, that he was a minor at the time. That it was made clear he was threatened by the Dark Lord and his actions were simply a means of self-preservation and to save his family. He knew there were plenty that didn’t believe him, plenty that hated him, but he understood their pain and allowed the papers to smear his name without comment. In reality, the trials were quick, everyone was eager to see his family punished. He hoped that the Malfoy name would drop from the papers soon.

He was lost in thought when a small figure appeared beside him suddenly, causing him to jump back and trip over a slightly upturned cobblestone, “ _ DAMMIT!”  _ He grunted as he fell to the ground.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the small figure had dashed to their knees to help him up, but once they pulled him upright enough to see his face they startled, “MALFOY?” They let go of him and he fell back down, even harder this time, smacking his head on the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK—?!” Draco propped himself up quickly on his elbows and looked at his assailant to find a mass of curls staring back at him. “Granger?! For fucksake!! What are you doing here and why are you attacking me?!” He spat while checking the back of his head for blood. He winced slightly at the touch, but was relieved to find it dry.

“I’m, I’m sorry.” Granger said in a small, panicked voice, “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” She helped him to his feet and glanced over him for any signs of injury, “Are you a-alright?”

“I’m fine, just a bit of a bruised skull, thanks to you.” He muttered and dusted himself off, searching for his wand and collecting it from the ground. “Might I ask why you’re lurking around my family plot and startling innocent bystanders?” He shot her a look as he smoothed the wrinkles out of his jumper. She was standing upright now and he noticed a bouquet of vibrantly colored flowers tucked under her arm. She was chewing her lip and staring at the ground.

“I’m here for, uhm, for,” she looked away from him as her voice cracked a bit, “. . .for Tonks.”

Draco was taken aback, his eyes darted to the grave of his only cousin and noticed it was pristine compared to the others, except for a few wilted flowers. The realization dawned on him quite quickly that Granger must have taken it upon herself to care for her grave in his family’s absence. He cleared his throat and looked away from her, “Yes, well, I suppose that makes sense. . . I had forgotten the two of you were close.” He turned awkwardly back to the grave he was tending to previously, “I suppose I should thank you for tending to it. . .one less grave I had to tidy up today.” He didn’t wait for a response, but resumed his silent spell casting as the weeds slowly shrunk back and dirt melted away.

It was a bit awkward being alone with Gryffindor’s princess, in a graveyard of all places, but given the circumstances, he tried to remain civil. He was still trying to cope with the death of his peers, so he was sure Granger was struggling, too. He wasn’t the type to kick someone while down, not anymore anyways.

He could see Granger slowly move into his peripheral view as she let out a few quiet words, “It’s nothing to thank me for. . . I’m sorry it didn’t cross my mind to care for the others.” She moved further forward and replaced the flowers on Nymphadora’s grave.

Draco scoffed, “As if I’d expect you to take care of these people. I don’t even want to do this, Granger.” He threw an exasperated glare her way and grumbled, “My mother all but begged me to do this, you wouldn’t believe the guilt trips I had to endure.”

Granger watched his wand work quietly and nodded, just enough for him to see. She pulled the sleeves of her jumper down around her fingers and stared at the tips of her boots. They stood quietly for a while until she broke the silence again, “It was nice that they let Remus be buried next to her.”

He glanced at her briefly, deciding to humor her pitiful attempt at conversation, “My family is known for over preparing, they purchase a lot for each child and a future spouse the day they’re born.” Draco let out solemnly, “Andromeda argued with my mother that if she had to be in the same graveyard as Bellatrix,” he paused briefly and glanced at her, unsure of how she would react to hearing the name of his late aunt, “. . . then Lupin should be at her side.” Her chin was tucked into the neck of her jumper and he could only see her eyes, she seemed unchanged from hearing that name, but something was off. Her eyes seemed glassy and. . . was her nose swollen? Draco continued to study her. She seemed lost in thought, which wasn’t unusual for the book-worm, but something felt off. He supposed that he didn’t know her well enough to really tell.

“I’m sorry I startled you. . .and I don’t mean to be rude, but,” Granger exhaled sharply, “will you be done soon?” Draco turned his head towards her, looking straight on he could see clearly now that she had been crying. He felt an uncontrollable twinge of guilt and shame as the image of his aunt torturing her flashed in his mind. He forced it out and sucked his teeth.  _ Fuck. _

“Sorry, Granger, I’ve got a few months of care—taking to do, but I’ll try to get out of your way, soon,” he rolled his wand uncomfortably in his hands.

“I just, I usually. . . ,” Granger’s head dropped down as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her hands, “I talk with her, okay?” Her head snapped up and she looked angry now, “When I’m having trouble I come here and I talk to,” her voice cracked, “I talk to Tonks, and I  _ know  _ she can’t hear me,” tears began sliding down her cheeks, “but it just helps me, okay? Please just don’t. . .” Her voice trailed off as she let out a small sob.

Draco’s eyes widened, he hadn’t seen her so willingly vulnerable before. He wasn’t sure how this was the same witch that hit him in Third Year. “I’m. . I understand. . .kind of. You want me to leave so you can talk to Tonks?” She nodded her head while dragging the sleeves of her jumper across her face and choked out another sob. “Okay, okay, Granger. I have to,” he looked around, “I have to finish this, but I’ll be as quick as I can. . .I can be quiet if you want to get. . .uhm, get started.”

“You don’t want to hear it and I don’t want you to,” she choked out.

“Granger, I’ve spent the last few months under trial, listening to other people decide what I do and do not deserve to do with my life, I doubt whatever you have to say will phase me,” he replied sternly, growing more impatient with the babbling so-called “hero” in front of him.

She raised her eyes to meet his and she searched his face for a few moments and chewed her lip. Draco shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what she was looking at him for, until she blurted out, “I broke up with Ron.”

Draco choked a bit and let out a few coughs as he cleared his throat, he brought his hand to his mouth and shifted his gaze towards the ground.

“I told you you didn’t want to hear it,” she raised her voice and started crying again as she turned away from him

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets and mentally kicked himself as he approached her, “N-n-no, I was just surprised, please continue. I mean, if you’d like to. . . Is it okay if I continue while you speak?” She looked at him, still unsure, then nodded as he lifted his wand to continue.

“He proposed,” she fixed her eyes on Nymphadora’s grave as she spoke, but Draco couldn’t help but glance at her, “and I said. . .No. I couldn’t, I couldn’t say yes. I love him, I really do, it’s just. . . Not like that. . . but. . .” She bit her lip furiously and choked back a sob, “it still  _ hurts!”  _ She inhaled sharply like it was hurting her to breathe, “He’s my best friend, I don’t like hurting him.” She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and continued to sob. “What if he hates me? I can’t. . . I can’t lose him too.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably as he finished tending the graves and slid his wand back in his pocket. Hearing her cry so much made it impossible for him to keep that nasty thought from nipping at the back of his head and the guilt overtook him, “Granger, may I say something?” She dropped her hands and looked at Draco for a moment with uncertain, tear filled eyes and nodded. He moved to face her and let out a sigh, “I think you did the right thing. My personal prejudices aside, Weasley isn’t smart enough to know the difference between friendship and love. He’ll be thanking you before you know it for not agreeing to a doomed marriage, you did the right thing.”

Granger looked at him for what he felt was a bit too long, then she let out a loud laugh and shook her head, wiping away her tears, “Oh, Merlin.” She laughed, “I’m getting a pep talk from Draco Malfoy, what is this day?” Draco rolled his eyes and turned away from her.

“Well, I think I’ll be on my way then, Granger.” He stiffened up.

“Oh, Malfoy, I didn’t mean that in any kind of way.” He turned back towards her, “It’s just. Well,” she furrowed her brows, “I don’t think that we’ve ever actually spoken one on one.” She laughed, “It’s kind of an odd situation, don’t you think? For our first conversation?”

Draco couldn’t help but smirk, “I suppose this is odd.” They both laughed awkwardly and Granger wiped her tears. Draco sucked in his cheeks, “Granger, since we’re here. I just, I want to thank you. . .” He kicked at a small rock in front of him, “for your. . .well for your testimony. I hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with you properly, but. . .” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, “Thank you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she straightened herself, pushing her hair behind her ears, “Malfoy, you don’t need to thank me. I just told the truth. You were a minor that took the mark under duress, everything you did was under threat. You don’t deserve to be punished for that.”

Draco forced a smirk, “I didn’t get off scot-free, but you and the rest of the Golden Trio really saved me from Azkaban. You saved my mother from rotting next to my father. I just want you to know,” he sucked his teeth, “that I am grateful. . .but I’m not thanking Potter or Weasley like this.”

Hermione let out a small laugh and nodded, “I’ll pass on your gratitude to the boys, but really, it was the right thing to do.”

Draco nodded, “Okay, Granger. I’m going to take my leave now.”

She forced a smile and nodded, he nodded in return, then turned on his heel and began to leave, but paused slightly when he heard Granger quietly plead, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He stuffed his hands in his pocket and nodded without turning back, “As far as I’m concerned, this never happened.”


	3. Kept Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to everyone! I promise we'll be gaining traction soon, thanks to everyone who has subscribed and read so far, I appreciate you all so much! ♡

It had been a week since Hermione rejected Ron’s proposal and had her odd encounter with Malfoy in the graveyard. She had stayed for a while longer and “spoke” with Tonks about everything that had happened since her last visit, and questioned her about Malfoy’s out of character behavior. She had yet to receive any owls from Ron, so she was doing her best to avoid her friends and decline any invitations to meet, using her preparations to return to Hogwarts as her excuse. Hermione didn’t feel guilty about this, she was one of the few of her friends who actually chose to return to complete their seventh year of schooling. She had textbooks to review and supplies to gather, plenty of excuses. Everyone knew her preparations to return to school were always excessive, so they never questioned her further after she declined.

Most of her summer was spent settling in her new home with her parents. She had found them in Australia shortly after the war and restored their memories. They had decided to move back to London with Hermione so they wouldn’t be too far away while she finished schooling. She tried to convince them that it wasn’t necessary, that they should enjoy their retirement, but they refused. They kept their Australian home as a vacation home, renting it out to a few friends they had made as the Wilkins.

Their new house in London was smaller than their previous house, but they were able to make it feel just as homey as it had before. Hermione relished every family meal, every pot of tea, and every conversation shared between the three of them. It even made her second guess her decision to return to Hogwarts, but her parents reassured her that she was doing the right thing and that they were very proud of her.

While Hermione was overjoyed to be able to reconnect with her parents, there was a nagging voice in her mind that she should have been doing more to prepare for her final school year. In order to keep herself busy and make sure she was well-prepared, she had wound up at Diagon Alley, searching for supplemental texts.

Hermione was wandering the shelves of Obscurus Books, running her fingers along the spines of the books as she searched. She inhaled deeply and smiled as the smell of old parchment filled her nose. She turned a corner and found herself on the Muggle Studies aisle. She smiled to herself, thinking about her Third Year stint in the class. She looked over the various Muggle titles and then found she was not alone in the aisle. There was a tall, lean man standing a few feet in front of her, holding a piece of parchment in hand and scratching his head. It was this gesture that made Hermione notice his icy-blond hair.

“ _ Malfoy _ ?” Hermione couldn’t stop herself from spitting out as the identity of the man dawned on her. Malfoy spun around quickly and met her gaze with an equally bewildered look.

“For fucksake, Granger, you have all the subtlety of a banshee” He spat as he regained his balance.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic! I’m just surprised to be running into you,  _ again,  _ and in the Muggle Studies aisle of all places. You seem to have a knack for showing up where I least expect you.”

Malfoy quirked an arrogant eyebrow at her and began inspecting the beds of his fingernails, “I’m not sure what you’re speaking of Granger, I haven’t had the pleasure of your abrupt and unwelcome prescience since my trials.”

She furrowed her brows in response and opened her mouth to protest, but realized Malfoy was simply staying true to his word—acting as if their encounter in the graveyard never happened. A slight flush grew across her cheeks as she continued, “Right, uhm, my mistake. I meant to say I was just shocked to find you in this aisle.”

Malfoy’s gaze returned to meet hers, “Well, it is a requirement of my probation that I take Muggle Studies while I complete my education, so I’m trying to find this damned book.” He gestured at the piece of parchment in his hand.

Hermione glanced at it, just barely catching the title,  _ Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles  _ by Wilhelm Wigworthy. She began scanning the shelves alongside him, looking for the familiar spine, “I didn’t realize you’d be returning to Hogwarts, too.”

“I’m the son of a pure blood family, my education is quite important to my family and myself, regardless of it being ministry mandated at this point.” Malfoy continued through clenched teeth, “I wouldn’t dare miss out on taking my N.E.W.T.s, I’ve been preparing my whole life for them.”

Hermione wondered what it was like for Malfoy to grow up in such circumstances. She had previously been convinced all his parents did was fill his head with hatred of muggles and idealizations of blood purity, the thought of him being tutored and lectured from a young age didn’t quite fit the mold. Although, come to think of it, he was always right behind her in class rankings.

“Well, I suppose it will be nice to have another familiar face in the halls,” she pulled the sought after text from the shelves, presenting it to him with a small smile, “returning without Harry and Ron had me a bit nervous.”

That damn arrogant brow quirked again as Malfoy slid the scrap of parchment in his pocket, he slowly began to close the distance between them. “I don’t want you to think you and I,” he swished a long, slender finger between them, “are any sort of  _ familiar.  _ I’m not your friend, I’m not a replacement for those bloody dolts you call friends, either.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, the back of her neck started to warm and she opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off.

“I  _ mean  _ it, Granger. We are not friends and we never will be,” he was looming over her now, her face growing redder, “so stop trying to be anything more than schoolmates.” His fingers clasped the text and he slid it from her grip, “Thank you for your help, but please,  _ piss off, Mudblood.” _ With those final words he turned and levitated his pile of books and turned the corner, leaving Hermione fuming and embarrassed.

_ “What a complete, ARSE!” _

Hermione thought to herself. She realized she had been holding her breath, she exhaled sharply and relaxed her shoulders. She had thought they were getting along nicely and his abrupt change in demeanor had blindside her. She had half a mind to chase after him and tell him off and explain how absolutely unnecessary his language was, maybe slap some sense into him and ask for an apology.

She laughed quietly to herself, “It is Malfoy, after all, what did I expect?” She decidedly shook off the interaction and continued on the search for her books. She found them not too long after their odd encounter, but she spent hours wandering Diagon Alley, getting herself a few more books to enjoy.

After a while she returned home and found a large, brown barn owl waiting for her with an envelope in its beak. She deposited her new books into her stack and approached the owl. She immediately recognized Ron’s scratchy handwriting and her breath escaped her. The owl dropped the letter as Hermione acknowledged it, she reached out to pat its head but it took off before she could reach it. She sighed and picked up the envelope, running her fingers over the writing and then turning it over to break the wax seal. She sat down on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath before removing the piece of parchment within.

_ Hermione, _

_ I’ve told my family and the rest of the Order. Mum’s a bit disappointed, but hopes you’ll still come around for holidays. Me too. _

_ I’m going to be busy with auror training, but I hope you’ll write now and again. I’m sorry I won’t be seeing you off to Hogwarts. Good luck, not that you need it, you’re bloody brilliant. _

__ __ __ __ __ __ _ Ron _

Ron’s writing always left her wanting, he was brief and somewhat jumbled. He came off as awkward in every letter he had written her, but this one felt genuinely strained. She could tell he had no idea what to say to her. She heard the parchment crinkle under her grip.

Hermione let out a sigh and loosened her grip as she tried to process the waves of emotions that were washing over her. She felt so relieved that she was no longer harboring a secret from her friends and she was very eager to speak with them. She realized that this meant their separation was official. She wondered if everyone would ask her why. Her eyes welled up and she laid back on the bed. 

_ “What if they don’t want to speak with me, now?” _

__ Her mind raced as she imagined how everyone felt about her. She wasn’t sure if she could handle being alone and friendless, again. She chewed her lip and thought in circles, until a sudden urge struck her. She jumped up and gathered a quill and some parchment and began to write.


	4. Pride Comes Before a Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first and only warning, that there is smut in this chapter! :o) There will be more smut, throughout the story, but if you’ve read this far without noticing the tags, I want to give you a fair warning: There will be intermittent smut throughout the rest of the story. I will continue to update the tags as needed!
> 
> I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year and that 2021 is much better for us all! <3

Draco arrived home from Diagon Alley and dropped his new purchases abruptly at the feet of the aurors guarding the front doors to Malfoy Manor. He sneered at them and tapped his foot impatiently as they carefully examined and cast diagnostic spells on each item. After they had determined it was all suitable to bring into the manor, they cast a detection charm on Draco himself, at which he spat, “Oh, piss off, you wankers.” He stormed off, summoning a house elf to collect his things.

Upon entering the manor, his mother greeted him from the sitting room, “Welcome home, Draco.”

“ _Welcome_ isn’t quite how I’d describe it.” He moved to join his mother, sitting in the armchair next to her, previously reserved for his father, letting out a huff as he sat.

Narcissa extended a slightly shaky hand toward the coffee table in front of them, “I just sat down for some tea, would you like me to pour a cup for you, as well, dear?

Draco nodded and observed his mother as she steadied her hand to pour, taking note of the newly developed worry lines in her forehead, the swollen area under her eyes rubbed slightly raw, the way her lips fell back to a frown no matter how much she forced a smile, and the way her collarbone now protruded. The trials had almost been the final nail in her coffin, she had just barely made it through them in one piece. Though she mourned the absence of her husband, she was holding out for his release and tried to be there for her son. It made Draco’s stomach twist and lurch to think how much his father affected her.

“Thank you for picking up everything today, Draco. I wish they’d just let me send an elf out so I didn’t have to bother you.” She waved a hand flippantly in the air as she handed him his tea.

“Elves are too unpredictable for the ministry to feel comfortable with them leaving the manor grounds, I understand,” he took a long sip of tea, “are they going to send someone to help while I’m away?”

“Yes, they sent an owl earlier to confirm. They’ll add an additional auror to the manor and I’ll just have to provide a list to them when in need. Seems like a lot of nuisance, but I suppose it’s what I deserve.”

Draco placed his cup forcefully back onto the table, causing Narcissa to jump, “Mother, please stop berating yourself, you’re starting to sound like a damn house elf.”

She looked him in the eyes and forced a small smile as she squeezed his forearm tightly, “I’m only joking dear, please don’t worry too much. You need to focus on yourself and finish your preparations for school. I’ll be just fine here, I promise.”

He searched for the words, but unable to find them, he simply squeezed his mother’s hand in return, “If there’s not anything else you need, I think I’ll excuse myself and retire for the evening.” They traded solemn nods and he went back to his room.

Draco didn’t sleep much after the war. When he did, his sleep was generally plagued with nightmares, recollections, and twisted memories of all he had witnessed and all he had done. He was unable to take Sleeping Draughts, as his parole came with the pleasant restriction that he remain free of any potions that may alter his mood, so that the ministry could get the most accurate psychological profile of him. The aurors ran diagnostics on him each morning and night to ensure he wasn’t sneaking anything into his evening tea.

He changed into his lounging trousers and threw on a soft, plush robe and sat in front of the fireplace in his bedroom. Sipping a cup of freshly brewed earl grey tea, trying his best to avoid the call of his bed. He was always lying when he told his mother that he was going to sleep. He didn’t want her to know how difficult it was for him to sleep, it would only add to her laundry list of worries. She had enough to concern herself with his father, she didn’t need to worry about her son’s sleeping habits as well.

Draco avoided his bed as long as he could, once he finally found himself unable to keep himself upright, he reluctantly threw his robe in a heap on the floor and crawled into bed. He wrapped himself tightly in his duvet and tried to simply replay the day’s events. He retraced all his steps, his meals, his interactions— _Granger._ That was quite odd. After agreeing to not speak about their meeting in the graveyard, it was odd to run into her again so quickly. A nightmare that often plagued him was that of his late aunt torturing Granger after he reluctantly identified her. 

That was a pivotal moment for Draco, realizing what the war would do to those he knew, what his family and the rest of the Death Eaters were fighting for, what a future under the Dark Lord would be like, and the moment he took responsibility for his hand in the war. Granger’s screams and cries intermingled with Bellatrix’s cackling and mocking echoed in his head more than he would like to admit. He couldn’t stand it, it made him feel like his chest was collapsing.

 _“And you called her a fucking mudblood, you dick.”_ He slammed his palm into his forehead as if to stop the intrusive thought, wincing at the impact he grunted aloud, “Piss off! She’s got no benefit in us being friends. . .I was doing her a favor. I don't even know how to be friends with someone like her. . .” He rubbed the stinging sensation away and turned himself over in a huff, willing himself to finally succumb to sleep.

* * *

 _There she was again. Granger. Draco felt uneasiness creeping up the back of his spine as he looked around the Manor hurriedly for Bellatrix. She wasn’t in the room, it seemed to be just the two of them. Granger was simply standing there, in the middle of the room, turned away from him. His heart was pounding. He needed to get her out of there,_ **_now._ ** _He scanned the room desperately for an exit as he reached out towards her, “Granger, Granger, you have to get out—I have to get you out of here, it isn’t—.” His speech stalled as she reached out and took his hand, turning towards him._

_She seemed alarmingly calm as Draco scanned her for injuries, to his relief it didn’t seem that anyone had touched her. “It’s not safe for you, I need to get you out of here, she could be here any minute.” She was unresponsive, she kept staring back at Draco as he pleaded desperately with her, “Please, let me get you out, I can’t, I can’t watch this again. Here, I’ll carry you, please.” He reached his free arm out to turn her completely towards him, but she tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him forcefully into her. He stumbled and caught himself on her shoulder, finding himself accidentally embracing her._

_“Granger, what’s wrong with you? We need to get you out of here, I need to,” His words were swallowed as she caught his mouth with hers, her arms pulling him towards her. He pulled away from her grip in shock and she merely looked up at him with expectant brown eyes. Staring into her eyes his heart beat slowed, the uneasiness melted away, he found himself focused only on the taste of her lips and the only urgency he felt was to taste them again. He moved back to her, cradled her head in his hands and kissed her deeply, as though he were going to consume her. She met his movement rhythmically, her tongue sliding across his wanting lips, moving her hands up his torso and locking them firmly behind his neck. He swore he could feel her own desperation as she matched each of his movements with even more fervour._

_His hands slipped down her body as he caught the small of her back, pulling her body closer into his, protectively. He suddenly felt that he needed to be as close to her as possible to keep her safe. Her silent kisses made his heart pound, the way she felt against his skin, against his body—the taste of her lips, everything about her made the room around him spin. He pulled back from her mouth, desperate to take her in, but she darted swiftly to his neck, planting wet kisses down his neck as she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “Fuck, Granger, I—” her hand slipped quickly beneath the waistband of his trousers and he let out an involuntary groan._

* * *

Draco shot up, panting. He took in his surroundings, finding himself alone in his own bed, “Fucking hell.” He muttered to himself, still out of breath. Laying back down, he moved his hand to his forehead, where he found a cool layer of perspiration. He wiped it away, raking a hand through his hair, and tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. “ _What the fuck was that?”_ He thought to himself, ignoring the throbbing sensation that was radiating beneath his abdomen. He was used to having dreams—nightmares really—about Granger, but they had never played out like this before. His head kept replaying the dream, despite his mental protests, the images of her kissing him dancing across his eyelids, the way her hands felt on him. He groaned, “GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, DRACO!” As he buried his face into one of the down pillows, tossing and turning until he finally couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Fine then, you piece of shit,” he spat as he righted himself and slid his hand beneath the drawstring of his silk lounge pants and took hold of the uncomfortable erection that seemed to only throb more intensely every second he ignored it and began to pump as he spitefully let the dream replay again and again. His firm grip loosening as he moved more quickly up and down his own length, mumbling self-directed insults through his teeth— _bastard, arsehole, twat—_ until he found himself gasping at his release. He groaned and banished the mess away, before settling back into his sweat dampened sheets and spitting coldly, “You literal fucking wanker.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line Draco says to himself is a reference to the “children’s” book “Go the F**k to Sleep” by Adam Mansbach.


	5. You Can Always Begin Again

Hermione stood in the middle of Platform 9 3/4 and watched as Harry slid the ring Ron had “gifted” her onto a golden cable station chain, the small diamonds on the chain matched the accent diamonds of the ring perfectly. He held it out to Hermione gesturing, “Would you like me to put it on for you?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you.” Hermione turned, hurriedly pulling her hair away from her neck as Harry slipped his arms through hers to clasp it in place around her neck. She looked down at it as the ring rested on her collarbone. The combination was quite elegant. She turned to face Harry, “You really didn’t have to get me something like this.”

“Well, I thought it might be easier for you to wear if you had something from  _ both _ of your best friends,” Harry smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his mess of hair. “Besides, we’ll be missing your birthday this year, thought I’d get ahead for once.”

“Thank you, Harry, it means the world to me,” she smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand in hers.

Harry moved forward and planted a soft kiss on Hermione’s cheek, “I’m really proud of you,” he smiled as he handed her trunk off to be stored, “for going back, for being Head Girl, for, for knowing what you want. . .I’m sorry Ron didn’t come to see you off.”

Hermione gave him a pained smile, “Thank you, Harry, but I understand. I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it either.” Her eyes started to water and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” She whispered in his ear.

Harry squeezed her and laughed, “You can handle this, Hermione, you don’t need me, you never have.” He wiped the tears that were racing down her cheeks. “You’re gonna miss the train, McGonagall will be pissed if her Head Girl is a bad example.” They both laughed.

She exhaled and stepped away from Harry, “You’re right, I still have to get acquainted with the Head Boy before we address the prefects, I should go.” They smiled at each other and she quickly pecked his cheek as he waved her onto the train. “Promise you’ll write?”

“Whenever I can!” He shouted over the growing crowd. She held his green eyes until too many students had piled in behind her to see him anymore.

Hermione made a beeline to the Head Student’s compartment, exchanging the occasional nod and smile at fellow students she didn’t take the time to recognize. She found the compartment and quickly opened the door. She was immediately met with the smiling face and open arms of Professor McGonagall, “Professor!!” She exclaimed as she wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“Miss Granger, I can’t express how delighted I am to see you returning to Hogwarts or how delighted I am that you’ve accepted the position of Head Girl.” The old witch smiled as she looked at Hermione’s beaming face.

“It’s an honor to be serving under such a grand Headmistress,” she smiled back at her.

“Do I  _ have  _ to stay here for  _ this? _ ” A now all too familiar voice moaned from behind McGonagall. Hermione’s heart nearly stopped as she released the headmistress’ embrace to better view the source of the complaint.

“Malfoy.” Hermione growled, then turned back to the professor, “I’m quite sorry for the intrusion, I thought this was the Head Students’ Compartment. I’ll hurry ahead and meet you there.” She turned to leave but quickly found an aged hand resting in the crook of her elbow.

“Yes, dear, this is the correct compartment.”

Hermione turned back to face her. She looked at Malfoy, his stupid, stuck up face down turned, but a clear sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth as he toyed with a loose thread on his robes. She looked back at McGonagall, “Then may I ask what  _ he _ is doing here?”

McGonagall let out a solemn sigh, “I believe as the brightest witch of your age,” Malfoy interrupted her with a snort, “you may be able to deduce the reason for Mister Malfoy’s presence in this  _ particular  _ compartment.”

Hermione felt a cool sweat beginning to form on the back of her neck and the top of her head as her eyes fell on the silver and green Head Boy badge pinned to Malfoy’s robes. Her eyes widened as she scanned Malfoy’s face, still looking away from her but clearly stifling a few laughs. She moved back to search McGonagall’s all too calm face, “This has to be some kind of joke, professor. Please tell me it’s a joke.”

“Told you she wouldn’t be happy,” Malfoy nonchalantly shrugged at the professor.

“Miss Granger, I understand your surprise and even your hesitation,” the old witch moved slowly to block Hermione’s view of the Head Boy behind her, “but I do hope you’ll listen and try to understand why I’ve made this decision.” Hermione gulped audibly and nodded her head for her to continue, “Mister Malfoy’s probation is very specific and as you can imagine, there may be a few students who don’t agree with his attendance at Hogwarts, some may wish ill will on him, even. I find that the best possible solution is giving Mister Malfoy a way of defending himself that will not tempt him to break the restrictions of his probation.” Hermione found it difficult to hear with her heart pounding in her ears. McGonagall moved to squeeze her arm once again, “I firmly believe this is the best way to keep everyone at Hogwarts safe this year. I hope you understand, Miss Granger.” 

Hermione’s eyes darted between the witch and wizard before her, it wasn’t until she noted the concern on Minerva’s face that she realized she had been biting her lip so hard it bled. She moved to wipe away the blood and let out a sigh, “I understand, Professor.” She forced a smile.

“Very good! Well,” the older witch moved toward the compartment door, “I’ve taken it upon myself to address the prefects, so that you two may take some time to process your roles with one another.” She smiled at the two of them, “I do hope you’ll work together well.”

Hermione held her gaze and smiled until McGonagall closed the compartment door.

“Well, this will be bloody—,”

“ _ Levicorpus!” _ Hermione cut Malfoy off and he grunted as he levitated in the air, hitting his head on the roof of the compartment.

“WHAT THE FUCK, GRANGER?” He spat as he moved his hands to block his head from continuing to hit the roof of the compartment.

“No,  _ Malfoy,  _ you listen to  _ me _ !” She aimed her wand at his midsection, “If we’re going to be the Head Students there are going to be some rules.” She flicked her wand and turned him upside down so they were eye to eye.

“Merlin, Granger, fine!” He crossed his arms over his chest to prevent his clothes from slipping too far up his torso, “What bloody rules do you have for me?”

“First off, you  _ will  _ apologize to me for what you said in Obscurus and you will  _ not  _ use that word, again.” She punctuated her point by resting the tip of her wand on his throat.

Malfoy looked her up and down and sneered, “Is that a threat?”

She pushed her wand slightly into his throat, “Would you like to find out, Malfoy?”

He held her gaze for a beat, she looked back into his cold grey eyes without wavering, trying to convey how serious she was, until he jerked his head away from her and sneered, “ _ Fine.  _ I’m sorry for using such  _ foul  _ language and hurting your  _ feelings _ .”

Hermione’s grip on her wand loosened a bit, caught off guard by how easily he gave in to her. She cleared her throat, “And?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “ _ And _ I shall not use  _ that  _ term again.” He looked back into her eyes, “Do you want an Unbreakable Vow, Granger?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She glared back at him.

“What other ridiculous things would you like me to agree to?”

Hermione straightened herself and reaffirmed her grip on her wand, “You will work with me as Head Boy and not shuck your responsibilities.”

“Ha! You know not every boy at Hogwarts is like Potter or Weasley, some of us actually can take care of ourselves. I have every intention of doing my duty, Granger,” Malfoy extended his hands from himself and his robes and shirt rode up his torso. Hermione couldn’t help but glance as the deep V-shaped muscles on his lower abdomen were revealed. She supposed this physique was typical of a seeker, briefly remembering summers with Harry. Malfoy drew her attention back as he extended his hand towards her, “Do you want me to shake on it?”

Hermione set the stern look back on her face and crossed her arms, “That’s quite alright.” She said as she released the jinx, sending Malfoy falling headfirst into the compartment floor.

“ _ FUCK!” _ He yelled as he hit the ground. Hermione smiled proudly to herself as he picked himself up.

“I hope that you—,” she was cut off as Malfoy slammed her into the door of the compartment, knocking the wand from her hand. She shook as Malfoy brought his face to hers.

“I hope that  _ you  _ understand that I don’t  _ need  _ magic to hurt you, Granger, so think wisely before you pull something like that again,” his hand was ghosting over her throat, the surprisingly calloused pads of his fingers making contact with slowly increasing pressure.

She met his gaze and she steadied her breathing. He was angry, sneering, but his hands were shaking slightly. She studied him for a moment longer before letting out a laugh. “You can’t duel, can you?”

Malfoy released his hold on her and stepped away from her, “That’s none of your concern.” He turned away to take his seat.

“ _ That’s  _ why McGonagall assigned you as Head Boy. If someone were to attack you, you can’t defend yourself, can you?” Hermione pressed, moving towards him.

“Back off, Granger.” He sneered, looking away from her.

“You’re totally defenseless!”

Malfoy sneered and jolted to his feet, wand in hand, as he shot a spell at Hermione’s bag. She stumbled a bit, but realized she had not been hit. She watched as random bits of parchment levitated from her bag. They began to contort and fold themselves into origami cranes. She let out a laugh and turned to speak to a now sitting Malfoy, “You—OW!” She exclaimed as each crane took a turn darting forcefully at the back of her head. She turned to scowl at the attacking parchment.

“You’re smarter than you look, Granger.” He crossed his arms and turned towards the compartment window. “I am not allowed to cast any sort of dueling spell or jinx, offensive or defensive, but that does  _ not _ mean I’m ‘defenseless.’”

Hermione rubbed the irritated spot on the back of her skull, picking up her wand, and taking her seat across from Malfoy with a huff, “Well, then. In light of these circumstances, I promise not to use my wand to settle disputes with you from now on.” She extended her hand towards him. She watched as he slowly turned to look at her, the way his grey eyes scanned her made her quite self conscious. She shifted slightly and tried to force a smile as he stared her straight in the eyes and leaned forward to take her hand in his. His hands were much larger than hers, his fingers almost enveloping her wrist as he gripped her far too firmly and shook. She winced and removed her hand from his. She continued to smile at him, “I look forward to our partnership.”

“Are you always like this?” Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a busy week coming up, I’m graduating on Wednesday! *<:) I hope that this won’t affect my posting of the next chapter, but wanted to give fair warning if it were to be late. <3 Thank you all for reading this far! The chapter title comes from the quote, “No matter how hard the past, you can always begin again.” - Jack Kornfield


	6. No Gash, No Blood, Not Even a Scratch

Draco had been trying desperately, but mostly pretending to sleep for the rest of the train ride. He was combing through the most recent events for some kind of strategy, simultaneously reinforcing his occlumency walls. McGonagall had found him quickly and began barking rules of conduct between him and the Head Girl, Granger. He was hoping the old witch hadn’t noticed the blush spreading on his cheeks from hearing Granger’s name. He hadn’t expected to run into her again on the train. He felt stupid for not realizing she was the most likely candidate for Head Girl. Draco tried to tell the headmistress that their partnership would upset her, hoping she would somehow change her mind, but the old witch merely repeated how this was the best—and only—option for him. 

He thought he would have the train ride to decide how to face her  _ if  _ he ran into her at Hogwarts. How do you address the girl you’ve insulted and then fantasized about? McGonagall’s news made him realize he had very little time to figure it out. He needed a game plan, but it was all interrupted by Granger’s abrupt arrival and he fell into his old ways.

Draco silently hoped that she hadn’t noticed the way he stared at her when she was speaking to the Head Mistress. Her eyes were entirely different from how they seemed in his dream. They weren’t as large, but her irises were brighter, they almost had a golden quality to them when the light hit them. Even from his upside down view, he appreciated their brightness. He certainly expected her to be angry, to attack him even, but he hadn’t counted on her willing to work with him. She was odd.

The Hogwarts Express came to a halt, causing Draco’s eyes to snap open. Granger picked up her things and turned to Draco, “I think it’s best if I address the prefects alone tonight, we don’t want them all reacting as I did.” Draco nodded in response and she quickly exited the compartment and disappeared into the waves of students before he could form a response.

Draco had stood near the back of the Great Hall as the Headmistress addressed the school, sharing “encouraging” words about the upcoming school year, while expressing grief for the events that transpired the previous school year. She introduced new staff and reiterated safety policies. He paid little attention other than standing upright for his acknowledgment as Head Boy, which was met with awkward silence and hushed gasps. He instead kept his attention on Granger and took note of all the faces that had warmly greeted her, what seemed to be a few awkward encounters, and the applause she had received during her own acknowledgement. He had left the moment McGonagall excused them, taking quick strides to his new dormitory. 

He found his bedroom and noted the charm on his door handle. It was alerting  _ someone  _ that he had entered, but he wasn’t sure if was the ministry or the headmistress, maybe both. Lovely. He took a quick glance at the rest of his bedroom as he slipped out of his robes. He pulled on a soft jumper and moved back into the common room.

Draco sat on the deep green armchair facing the fireplace as he nursed a cup of tea. Granger wouldn’t be joining him for a bit while she worked out the cursory patrol schedule with the Prefects. He welcomed the time to get settled in the Head Students’ Dormitory without her distracting him. He took in the ornate furnishings, the ghastly combination of Slytherin Green and Gryffindor Red reminded him of a gaudy Christmas celebration. “She’ll probably squeal when she sees it.” He rolled his eyes and took another long sip of tea. 

He had intended to apologize to her, for what he called her. He was trying, desperately, to not be  _ that  _ wizard anymore. However, he didn’t regret trying to squash any ideas of friendship between them, so he was stuck on how to apologize but emphasise this idea. Granger had taken his chance at a genuine apology and forced him to agree to be civil. Any attempts at redeeming himself would now be tainted with the thought of doing so under threat, much like his actions before. “ _ Am I cursed to never be able to do anything for myself? Is everything I do just a response to a threat?”  _ His head fell in his hands as he groaned aloud, “Am I incapable of being a decent person?” He watched and waited for the fire to respond. He sunk further into his seat, “Useless.”

Draco sat back up, crossing his legs and resting his head in his hand, his index finger tapping on his temple rhythmically, trying to decide how to move forward with the Head Girl. The pit in which he found himself in only seemed to grow deeper. The click of the portrait swinging back into place pulled his attention, lifting his head to see the subject of his thoughts entering the room. He watched as she took in the room around them, when her eyes fell on him she smiled, “It’s like Christmas!”

He rolled his eyes, “I had a feeling you’d actually enjoy this gaudy room.”

“Gaudy?” She put her hands on her hips and pouted as she continued to scan the room, then shrugged, “I guess if I lived in a manor like you I might have a different opinion.” Draco watched as she moved around the room, observing the plush seating and set of writing desks, and then her pace quickened as she found the small built-in bookcase next to the window seat. He quirked a brow as she scanned the books.

“Granger,” he hesitated as she looked over her shoulder at him, whatever thought of reconciliation was in his mind had quickly escaped him and he panicked to finish his sentence, “are you. . .are you really going to start studying on your first night back?” He looked her up and down, “You haven’t even taken your robes off.”

“Oh, you’re right,” she said, looking down at her outfit. “I should probably get changed.” She moved past him and found the door adorned with a golden “H.G.,” then disappeared behind it.

Draco smacked his forehead again, “ _ Idiot! Now she thinks you’re trying to get rid of her.”  _ His hand slid down his face, pulling his expression downward, “ _ Why do you even care that she might think that?”  _ He rolled his eyes at himself, straightening his posture again in his chair. A cool voice echoed in his mind, “ _ Not good enough.” _ He gritted his teeth and spat, “Shut up!!”

“I’m sorry?”

Draco jumped out of his chair at Granger’s abrupt reappearance in their common room. He turned to face her, she was staring sternly at him. She had changed from her school robes into a set of blue flannel pajamas, a grey robe hanging open over them. There was a glitter barely visible near her collarbone, some sort of jewelry. Her mass of curls were pulled back into a low ponytail. He had never seen her so casually, it nearly threw him off balance.

“I.. I wasn’t talking to you.” He said, turning back around, trying to hide his expression from her.

“You didn’t summon a house elf to abuse, did you?” She moved towards him, searching the room, “That’s not something I will tolerate, Malfoy.”

“I’m not spending my evenings abusing  _ any  _ kind of magical creature, thank you,” he snapped, quickly catching her gaze and sneering, “I’m not a psychopath!”

“Forgive me, Malfoy, but I don’t quite trust that you’re not.” Granger moved to face him directly, “You act kind one moment and then are so cruel the next, I can’t quite make a good judgment of your character. Given our history, you might forgive me for being suspicious of your feelings towards house elves!” She was shouting at him at this point. “So, if you don’t mind, you might explain who you were berating?”

Draco sucked his teeth as she stared at him, she was visibly out of breath. Her cheeks were flushed and he could see a glassiness in her eyes. That  _ damned  _ memory started itching at the back of his mind and he let out a sigh. He turned away from her, locking his eyes on the fireplace, “I was speaking to myself.” He moved to retake his seat and cast a quick warming charm on his previously abandoned cup of tea. He kept his eyes on the flames as he took a long sip.

Granger had stood silently while he did so. From his peripherals, he could see her move to the chair next to his and fall into it. For a few minutes there was silence, until she summoned the book she had previously picked from the shelf. He looked at her, without turning his head, watching her open up the book and study the table of contents for a bit before she said quietly, “You caught me speaking to a dead woman’s grave,” she turned her head towards him, “do you think I have any room to pass judgment on you for speaking to yourself?”

Draco swallowed hard and turned slowly to match her gaze, “You know, Granger, for someone who asked me to conceal the fact that we’ve conversed, you seem to bring it up quite frequently.”

Her brows furrowed together and a look of confusion spread across her face, “Malfoy, did you think I was asking you not to tell anyone we spoke?” He quickly turned away from her and brought his tea cup back to his mouth, hoping to hide his own embarrassment.

After a few awkward moments, Draco asked quietly, “Did you not?”

Granger let out a dry chuckle, setting the book down and turning fully towards him, “No. Merlin! Ron had asked me not to tell anyone yet, then I immediately ran into you and blurted it out. I just didn’t want you to tell anyone we had broken up.”

“Who in the bloody hell would I tell that information to?” He turned in his own chair to face her, bewildered with this new revelation.

“I. . I don’t know. I was distraught, I guess we don’t really have any mutual friends, I don’t know what I was worried about.” Granger’s posture fell as she laughed dryly, the fire reflected in her eyes momentarily before darting back to his own eyes, “I’m. . Sorry, Malfoy.”

Draco focused all his energy on setting an expression like stone in his face as he looked back at her. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age, the Golden Girl, Gryffindor’s Princess, War Hero, Destroyer of Horcruxes, One Third of the Golden Trio, was sitting before him, apologizing. To him. A former Death Eater. A schoolyard bully. Slytherin’s Supposed Heir. Pure Blood Prince, Draco Malfoy.

“Whatever for?” He smirked, turning away from her, once again. “I’m hardly concerned whether or not some Gryffindor wants to speak with me.”

“Well, I  _ do  _ want to speak with you,” Granger had quickly moved to stand in front of him, “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together this year, so it’d be a lot easier if we could at least have civil conversations. So, please, accept my apology or tell me what to do to make things right.” She stood stubbornly in front of him, hands on her hips.

Draco moved to his feet, towering over her, “Fine, Granger, I forgive you. Now, please excuse me, I’ll be going to bed now.” He moved past her, his torso brushing against her elbow, as he took long strides towards his room.

“One more thing,” she called out. He stopped and turned his attention towards her once more. “You and I are on patrol duty together,” she raised a hand to scratch at the back of her neck and avoided his gaze, “erm, indefinitely. Right now the other prefects aren’t quite. . . comfortable with being alone. . .with you.”

Draco sucked his teeth, “Is that all?” She nodded silently. “How expected.” He turned and disappeared behind the door. The charm signaled and there was a small  _ pop  _ and Draco found himself facing a house elf.

“Pipney is to be running Mister Malfoy’s diagnostics, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Where is the pain when your pride is wounded? And why do we say that: wounded? There is no gash, no blood, not even a scratch. Which part of us hurts? The brain cells? The neurons? What, for goodness' sake, what?” 
> 
> ― A.P., Sabine


	7. If It Doesn’t Challenge You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to express thanks for all the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and comments so far! <3 I know we’re taking things a little slowly, but I want this story to feel organic, so if that slow burn isn’t your thing, I do apologize! However, I’ve been very inspired and churned out quite a few chapters in this last week, so I can tell you there will be some more smut VERY soon. =:) Enjoyy! <3
> 
> P.S. A small, personal victory, I figured out how to insert lines on A03! I went back and edited a few chapters to have them and I think they look nicer now, haha. I just wasn’t very observant. <:o)

Hermione had been excited to reunite with her friends after avoiding them for the past few weeks, but almost immediately found that being with them had made her feel more lonely. Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott had collectively cooed mournings of her relationship with Ron. As if being in a relationship was the only way Hermione could feel fulfilled. Luna Lovegood had merely blinked at the mention of the break up and let out a breathy, “I didn’t realize you were together.” Luna then offered her some unsolicited advice about Wrackspurts. Parvati and Padma Patil had offered to use a bit of divination to help her, which she feigned graciousness and declined. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas offered to “keep her company,” and she scoffed at them. Ginny was the only one who wasn’t completely insensitive, but as the younger sister of Ron, things felt awkward between them. She was trying to be a good friend to Hermione, but a good sister to Ron, they needed time to adjust, so their conversations tended to be about prefect duties.

The younger prefects had known better to ask about something so personal, but they wouldn’t stop gawking over her, or asking her questions about the war. Hermione decided at the first prefects meeting that she didn’t want to be alone with _any_ of them and informed them she would be patrolling with the Head Boy until further notice. Making a claim that she knows the other prefects may be hesitant to work with him so she’d bare that weight until people felt more comfortable with him, but they _were_ to respect him. In reality, no one had expressed any hesitation at the meeting. In fact, Neville had actually offered to pair off with him. He had become much more confident and courageous since the war, but she let him know that wouldn’t be necessary. Hermione may have fibbed a little to Malfoy, unsure if he would have just agreed to be her patrol partner for her own sake.

She had hardly seen Malfoy since their conversation the first night, other than on their patrols. He would respond shortly when she discussed course work with him, but as soon as she tried to get to know him better he would suddenly “hear” something and scurry off to investigate, or hush her so he could hear better. He always immediately retired to his room afterwards and was gone before she left for classes in the morning. The bathroom they shared within the dormitory was always still warm with steam when she awoke, she just barely missed him each day. They actually shared the majority of their classes, but he seemed to isolate himself as much as he could in each class, only answering questions when called upon, sitting as alone as he possibly could. Despite this, he was always somehow the first one out of the classroom, “ _Long legs, I guess.”_ She couldn’t tell if he was avoiding her in particular, or everyone.

It was the first Saturday of the school year. Hermione had left the dorm early, but still hadn’t managed to catch Malfoy before he left. Not that she particularly _cared_ , but he was the one person who didn’t bring up Ron. That’s it. Since being caught by the snatchers, Hermione found it very important to keep her agility and stamina up. She had started running regularly and decided the Quidditch Training Pitch would make a good enough track. There were a few other students zipping around the pitch, but they didn’t seem to mind her.

She exhaled through her mouth as she finished her last interval of jumping jacks. She set her fingers on the pulse point on her neck and counted her heart beats. She was wearing a set of muggle gym clothes, a tank top with matching running shorts. She had her wand holstered on her arm. It was a little cold for the autumn weather, but she had cast a warming charm and decided she would warm as she moved.

With her warm ups done, she started running, arms pumping, trying to match her breath to her movements. She let her mind focus only on putting one foot in front of the other, letting her troubles melt away as her heart rate rose. She kept her gaze on the horizon as she worked her way around the pitch. She had just started to pick up speed when someone fell from the sky a few yards in front of her, skidding a few feet into the dirt, their broom following shortly after. 

Hermione adjusted her path towards them and called out, “Are you alright?!” The boy groaned in response as she approached him. She slipped her wand from her holster as she squatted next to him and cast a quick diagnostic spell. She looked over the information and didn’t see anything of immediate concern.

“What. . .what the hell are you wearing?” Malfoy’s strained voice hit her ears.

Hermione startled a bit and looked away from the diagnostic to see Malfoy, covered in dirt with a bloody nose, staring up at her, he had rolled himself over and was looking quite perplexed. “Oh, Malfoy, I didn’t realize it was you,” she blushed and looked down at her attire, “These are muggle exercise clothes.” She shook her head, “Wait—that’s not important! What happened, are you okay?” She moved to look at his face, though his nose was bleeding, she couldn’t see any obvious injuries.

“I fell off my broom,” Malfoy said curtly.

“Well, _I know that_ , Malfoy. I was asking ‘why?’”

“Uhm. I was distracted.” His gaze moved from her as she continued to check him for injuries.

“I thought you were quite good at flying,” she laughed as she tried to brush some dirt off his face to see if he was cut. Malfoy quickly pulled away from her and began picking himself up. She shifted her weight back onto her ankles and watched him. The parts of his cheeks that were free of debris had turned pink. He’s . . . embarrassed?

“I, erm, uh, haven’t flown in quite some time. I’m a bit rusty.” He was fully standing and brushing dirt off himself. He moved to collect his broom, “What are you, uhm, doing out here? I thought you hated flying.”

Hermione rose to meet his gaze and laughed, “You’re right. I was running, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I started doing so after the, uh,” her throat suddenly got very dry and she needed to swallow, “the snatchers.” She cleared her throat and looked at Malfoy. He was staring at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite place. She had never seen him look like that before. She felt uncomfortable and decided to change the subject, “I—uh—I didn’t see anything too pressing on the diagnostic, but you should still see Madam Pomfrey for your nose. I’d be happy to take you to the Hospital Wing.” She smiled awkwardly and gestured back towards the castle. Whatever expression was on his face melted away to a neutral one.

“I’m quite capable of taking myself, Granger.” He said coldly.

Hermione’s cheeks almost instantly got hot as her voice rose, “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Malfoy! I’m not going to attack you again, I promised I wouldn’t. I’m trying to be friendly with you, you can stop avoiding me _anytime_ now!” She moved towards him and tried to take his broom from him, but his grip held strong on the handle as he stared at her with wide eyes and blood dripping down his face. She grunted, “Let go of this broom! I’m taking you to the Hospital Wing!” She jerked with all her might until Malfoy released his grip and the handle smacked her in the face. Her hands shot to her face, dropping the broom, as she tried to smother the source of the stinging. She pulled her hands away to see them covered in blood, her stomach turned and her throat soured as her vision blurred. She could hardly make out Malfoy lunging for her as the world quickly swayed out of view.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the all too familiar sight of the Hospital Wing’s ceiling. She winced at the lights and immediately felt a pain radiating from the center of her face. She slowly reached her hand towards her face.

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

She turned her head slightly to see a very dirty Malfoy sitting next to her bedside. His clothes were dirty, but the dirt and blood had been washed from his face and there was a small bruise spreading across the bridge of his nose. She groaned as she spoke, “Are you alright?”

Malfoy let out a solitary dry chuckle, “Yes, Granger. I bumped my nose on my fall. I got some murtlap essence and a lolly, _I’m_ fine. _You_ however,” he pointed the treat at her, “ _split_ your nose _open_ with the handle of my broom, bleeding all over it, and knocked yourself unconscious. It was quite the show.” He popped the lollipop in his mouth and crossed his arms with a smirk.

“How,” she licked her very dry lips, “how did I get here?”

He pulled the lollipop from his mouth and leaned towards her, “Seeing as I was so very capable of bringing myself to the Hospital Wing,” he glared at her, “I was able to bring you with me.”

She tried her best to smile and let out a weak, “Thank you, Malfoy.”

He leaned back into his seat and averted his gaze, “It’s nothing, I was headed here anyways.”

“Why do you do that?” Hermione asked meekly.

He caught her gaze, “Do what?”

“Shut down when we’re getting along?” She bit her lip, “You don’t have to be mean to me, you know.”

Malfoy stilled, she could see the vein in his neck twitching as she waited for his response. He was nervous. He cleared his throat, “Granger, I—“

“Oh you’re awake, dear!” Madam Pomfrey called out as she moved through the curtain, interrupting Malfoy. “How are we feeling?”

“Still stings a bit, but alright.” Hermione smiled at the old witch as she cast a diagnostic spell over her.

“You sliced it open pretty good, you’ll have to wait here a few more hours while the murtlap essence finishes closing it up, but it should be done before dinner.” Pomfrey moved to gesture towards Malfoy, “Luckily Mister Malfoy was there to bring you in.” She paused and quirked a brow at him, “You didn’t need to stay, love. You can go back to what you were doing.”

Malfoy nodded awkwardly and rose to his feet, “Right, I’ll be off.” He disappeared behind the white sheets and Pomfrey turned her attention back to Hermione.

“Madam Pomfrey?”

“Yes, dear?”

“How long. . .how long have I been out?” She asked quietly.

Madam Pomfrey looked at the clock on the wall and pursed her lips, “I believe it’s been about two hours since Mister Malfoy brought you in.”

Hermione choked a bit and the healer quickly conjured her some water and helped her to a seated position to drink. Once her throat cleared she asked, “He sat here with me for two hours?”

She gave Hermione a confused look, “I suppose he did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you.”
> 
> -Fred DeVito


	8. Pieces on the Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a twitter a little bit back, but just realized I never mentioned it here. Please feel free to follow me on Twitter @XandriaLette. I just post bout chapter updates, Dramione babbling, and RT some great art work! Would love to interact with you all there! <3

“ _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”  _ Draco’s heart was pounding and his breathing was shallow as he moved swiftly from the Hospital Wing. 

_ “What were you thinking? You should have left her in the dirt.” _

Sweat started to bead at his hairline as he took quick, long strides and tried to calm himself and quiet the voice grating in his mind, paying no mind to his surroundings. Draco was heading to the castle grounds, rounding a corner quickly when he collided into someone with a grunt.

“HEY! Watch where you’re going, you—Draco?”

He righted himself and realized he had run into Theodore Nott. Theo’s perplexed expression had faded into a smile, “There you are! I’ve been trying to catch up with you, but you always disappear between classes. How’ve you been? You, uh, don’t look so hot at the moment.” He clasped a firm hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Theo, I really can’t talk right now,” Draco moved from beneath his grip, “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” He moved past Theo.

“You actually look like you really  _ need  _ to talk,” Theo caught his elbow and Draco reluctantly turned back to face him. “We don’t have to catch up, we can just talk about whatever,” he looked Draco up and down, “is going on with you right now.”

Draco sucked his teeth, scanning Theo’s face and weighing his options, then let out a sigh, “ _ Fine _ , but, can we go somewhere private?”

Theo smiled, “I’ve just the place.”

* * *

Draco and Theo sat in the Room of Requirement, which was currently fashioned into a simple sitting room. Two plush armchairs faced one another in front of a fireplace, a small table between them was adorned with a teapot that kept refilling itself and never seemed to grow cold. Theo was extremely proud of his discovery of the room and Draco decided not to mention how much time he had spent here previously.

Instead he started telling Theo about his life after the trials, describing all the odd encounters he’s had with Granger thus far, and how he was currently struggling to coexist with her. Draco was leaning against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand and tapping his foot while Theo seemed to be processing the last bit of information.

“So, you, Draco Malfoy,  _ fell off  _ your broom,” Theo gestured, “because  _ Hermione Granger  _ was running in a pair of _ shorts _ ?”

“Watch yourself, Nott.”

Theo raised his hands in a half-surrender, “Sorry, not the point. Let me make sure I understand,” He leaned forward onto his knees and squinted, “You’re determined to distance yourself from Granger, but when she knocked herself out, you  _ carried  _ her to the hospital wing, when we all know you could have simply  _ levitated  _ her,” Draco began to sneer at him but Theo continued without hesitation, “then you waited beside her until she regained consciousness, which is a very  _ nice _ thing to do,  _ but  _ every time  _ she’s _ nice to  _ you _ , you’re  _ mean  _ to her or you just  _ leave?”  _ His voice was drenched in sarcasm.

__ “Get to your point.” Draco pointed a stern finger at him.

“My point,  _ Draco,  _ is that, _ ”  _ Theo leaned back in his chair casually and laced his hands together and rested them on his crossed legs, “you’re an idiot.” He smiled widely.

Draco sneered, “ _ Bloody brilliant, Theo! Five points to Slytherin!”  _ Theo’s smile held strong. “I didn’t need this little  _ talk  _ to figure  _ that  _ out.”

“You’re an idiot because you don’t realize you  _ want  _ to be her friend,” Theo chuckled, “Hell, maybe even more than friends.” He rested his head on his hand and quirked a brow, “On second thought, you might just be a right pervert.”

“Piss off, Theo,” He scowled. He sat for a moment as Theo waited for a response with a smug look on his face, he shifted uncomfortably, “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“I... I don’t think I can. Even if I wanted to,” Draco let his posture fall, “there’s a voice in my head saying, ‘She’s a mu—,’” he caught himself, “‘muggle born, she’s not good enough.’ So then I’m cold to her, but then I feel this uncontrollable guilt about what my Aunt did to her,” he found Theo’s eyes, “I didn’t... I couldn’t stop her.” His gaze fell to the floor, “I can’t see her in pain again. Her association with me has always been rooted in pain. I don’t,” he let out a pained chuckle, “I don’t deserve any of her kindness. I don’t know how to stop her without hurting her though. I don’t know what to do.” He felt his voice catching in his throat and he quickly reached for his tea cup and sipped on it.

“That does seem fairly complicated, Draco,” Theo let out a resigned sigh as he scratched at his chin. “You also can’t just suddenly change your entire attitude after she threatened you, she’ll definitely question your motives.”

Draco sucked his teeth, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Theo pressed his fingers to his lips for a moment before continuing cautiously, “That voice that keeps interfering...it’s your father, isn’t it?”

Draco’s jaw clenched as he looked to the ground and nodded, “It is. My father has controlled every aspect of my life since I was born. The way I dress, the way I speak, my relationships. He’s told me whom to be friends with and whom to ignore. There’s not a single decision I’ve made without his influence. I’m not sure I know how to otherwise, he’s too deep in my mind.”

“Sometimes I hear my father’s voice, too.” Draco’s attention shifted back to him, “I think it might be a shared experience of the children of Death Eaters. Our parents drilled these ideals into us, it’s hard to act against them without feeling like you’re forsaking your own family.” Theo took his own teacup and gulped the entirety down. “It fades, the more you’re away from them. You just have to be patient.”

“It does?”

“Yes,” Theo smiled, “and once you realize he doesn’t control you anymore, I think you’ll find getting along with Granger will be a lot easier.” He moved to the edge of his seat, “You have to let her call the shots, if she wants to be friendly, let her. Don’t cut her out, don’t be a dick. Just try to get to know her and let her know you.” He smiled triumphantly.

“Thank you, Theo,” Draco gave a tight smile, “this has actually been relatively insightful.” Theo beamed.

“We Slytherins have to look out for one another, and whether you realize it or not, you and I are  _ actually  _ friends, not because our fathers made us, but because we  _ are _ .” There was a smug look on his face, “I know you know how to be a friend, Draco. Just take it slow.” Draco nodded. “Also, maybe you could grace us with your presence at mealtimes now and then? I know Blaise would like to speak with you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Draco smiled awkwardly as he stood up, “I’ll get going then, I’d like to clean up before I see Granger again.”

“For Merlin’s sake, please do,” Theo laughed, “You smell like dirt and sweat.”

Draco moved past the armchairs to leave the Room of Requirement and spat over his shoulder, “Go fuck yourself, Nott.” Theo laughed and Draco smiled to himself.

* * *

Draco let the warm water rush over him, he stared at the floor of the shower as the dirt washed off of him. He had a few scrapes and bruises from his fall, but they had all nearly healed since his visit to the Hospital Wing. There was still a bit of stiffness in his muscles from the impact, so he took his time enjoying the relief the warm water brought.

It was proving to be a challenge to not think about how Granger looked when she was running. She was quick, her legs were strong. Draco had been taken by the way her calves flexed as they hit the ground, the way a tendon flexed on the back of her thigh as she pushed off. He had traced this tendon up until he caught the hem of her shorts slipping up as she bounced to the next leg, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground. Before he realized what was happening, he was faced with the front of Granger, she was stronger than her petite frame suggested. The way she leaned over him allowed her top to slip down far enough for him to catch a glimpse of her chest, glistening with sweat.

A familiar sensation began to grow within his abdomen. Nott’s voice echoed, “ _ you might just be a right pervert.” _ Draco clenched his teeth together and took sharp inhales through his mouth, leaning an arm against the shower wall and resting his forehead against his forearm. “ _ You will not do this, again.”  _ He focused on his breathing. “ _ You’re better than this.”  _ He focused on the water, streaming down his body. “ _ You’ve got self-control, you’re your own person, you make your own decisions.”  _ The water hit his shoulder, running down his chest, running down his abdomen, running down his pelvis.  _ Running.  _

His mind filled again with Granger running in front of him, his hand was mindlessly following the water down his body until it found the source of his frustration and gripped around it. Suddenly it was him she was running towards, smiling, bouncing with each step. His nostrils filled with the smell of grass and sweat, as she leaned over him, breathing into him. He let out a groan, as he shifted and the water hit his neck, Granger’s tongue lapping just beneath his jaw. Her hips moved against his as he tangled a hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her closer to him, moving rhythmically with his own hand. He pulled her head away from his neck, her mouth glistening with saliva, his breath caught in his throat as he leaned away from the shower wall moving to grip it with his free hand, allowing the water to beat down on his chest. His hand splayed out against her breast, his fingertips gripping the tile, as his rhythm quickened. Draco could almost taste the salt as he nipped at her neck and collarbone. Her moans and whimpers brought him over the edge. He steadied himself, turning his head up towards the running water as all the tension uncoiled from his pelvis. He let the water run over himself as he tried to steady his breathing. He reached to turn the water off and stepped out of the shower.

Draco wrapped a plush towel around his waist, watching as the steam swirled around the bathroom, until his reflection slowly started to appear in the mirror. He assessed himself, moving closer to face himself. He cleared his throat, in a quiet, dry voice, he said, “You’re pathetic.”

“ _ You’re a Malfoy.”  _ His father’s voice nipped at the back of his mind.

He sucked his teeth and started again, “You can be better. You can change. You can be,” he paused, “ _ friends _ with Granger. If she lets you. Now stop being a coward, stop being an idiot.”

“Malfoy?” A voice accompanied a knock behind the bathroom door. His heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t expecting her to be back already, but he supposed his shower had run a bit longer than planned.

“Malfoy, I’d like to speak to you.” Granger’s voice called out again.

“Just a moment, Granger.” He looked around the bathroom, only to find his dirt and blood stained clothes on the wet ground, he hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him, nor his wand. “ _ Fuck.” _ Draco thought of every possibility until he finally decided that he had no choice. He took a deep breath, set a neutral expression on his face, and opened the bathroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened… or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move on.”  
> – Tupac Shakur


	9. Rankle and Fester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve tried to keep my chapters thus far around the same word count, but I’ve realized my chapters are a bit. . . Short? (At least compared to some other fics I’ve been reading.) Anyways, I decided to let my chapters be longer moving forward, so hopefully that’s good news for you all. ;D
> 
> Come yell at me on my Twitter: @XandriaLette

Hermione’s cheeks flushed as the bathroom door creaked open and she found herself face to face with Malfoy’s bare chest, stray water droplets running down, glittering in the light, steam lingering out of the doorway behind him as if he had just emerged from another world. When she realized she was lingering, she moved her gaze to his face. He had the same neutral expression he usually had, but it was framed differently as his hair fell haphazardly in all directions, a few pieces falling into his face. His left arm was pinned tightly to his side as he held a towel in place around his hips. She was taken aback as she had never seen him so casually and it seemed she could no longer form sentences.

“What is it you’d like to discuss?” Malfoy raised his right arm to push the stray hairs out of his face and she was mesmerized by the way his arm muscles moved and flexed as he did so.

“Oh,” Hermione squeaked, realizing he was speaking to her, “I can, uh, wait, until you’re finished.” She moved a few steps back to allow him to move past her.

“Are you sure?” Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at her.

She traced the scars down his torso and swallowed, “Yes, I can wait.” She forced herself to meet his eyes and smile.

“I’ll just be a moment, don’t go anywhere, please.” He moved past her and Hermione found herself staring at the muscles on his back as he disappeared behind his door. His scent was lingering in the air around her, he smelt like black tea and bergamot, complimented by a subtle musk. “Delightful.” Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, as if shoving the escaped word back. Shaking her head, she took a seat in the nearest armchair. She became uncomfortably aware that she was still in her running clothes and probably needed to bathe herself. She cast a quick freshening charm and summoned a jumper from her room that she quickly pulled over her gym clothes, focusing on her breathing as she waited for Malfoy to return.

It was only a few moments until he reappeared, standing awkwardly in his doorway. His previously exposed chest now covered by a light, black turtleneck, with matching black trousers. His hair was still wet and unmade, it had fallen back into his face. It seemed to frame his sharp features in a way that rounded them off, making him seem less intimidating or cold looking. Oh Merlin, how long had she been staring?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Malfoy interrupted her silent staring and moved across the room to take the armchair opposite her.

“No, I’m sorry for interrupting you,” she blushed. He nodded and looked at her expectantly. Right,  _ she _ had wanted to talk to  _ him _ . “Uhm, well. It’s just…” she pulled at the sleeves of her jumper, “you left the Hospital Wing so suddenly... It felt like you were going to tell me something.” Hermione bit her lip nervously and focused on a piece of dead skin on her knee. “I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

The words lingered in the air for a while before she finally gathered enough courage to look at him. His leg was bouncing as he turned towards her, she focused on counting the beats of his foot.

Malfoy sighed, “I was going to apologize.” Her eyes shot up to his, “For how I’ve been acting. I’ve been trying to distance myself from you, because I thought that’s what was best,” he raked his fingers through his hair, “But it seems that’s going to be impossible and I don’t,” he waved a hand flippantly in the air, “I don’t know how to,” he looked at her, then looked away and finished quietly, “how to be your… friend.”

The last few words fell on her like bludgers, her heart was pounding in her ears. Was she still in the Hospital Wing? Was her overly optimistic mind imagining a scenario where  _ Draco Malfoy  _ could actually stomach being around her? She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and pressed gently on the bruise on her nose. “ _ Ouch! Okay, not a dream.” _

“Do you,” she cleared her throat, “Do you want to be my friend?” She mentally kicked herself for sounding like she was in primary school.

“I, I think that I might,” Malfoy stuttered.

“Even though I’m a mudblood?” The word tasted bitter in her mouth.

“I don’t… I don’t care about that, Granger.” He sounded exasperated. “I am truly sorry that I ever called you that. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, but I promise I won’t ever use that word again. And not,” his eye closed as he paused, “and not because you’ve asked me not to, but because I’m choosing not to use it.”

Hermione felt her stomach twist and warm, as his words washed over her. She was equally relieved and confused and started chewing her lip out of habit.

“Would that be alright,” he shifted to look at her, “if I tried to be your friend?” 

Hermione opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again, trying to come up with a response that didn’t sound too eager.

“I absolutely understand if you’d prefer to keep our relationship professional, I just,” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted, “I’d like to be your friend,” she smiled, “I mean, I’d like the chance to get to know you better, at least.”

Malfoy removed the hand from his face and his eyes flicked over her, “Alright then… Thank you,” he nodded at her, “for hearing me out. And, thank you in advance for being patient with me.”

Hermione gave a nod and cleared her throat, “I also want to say sorry, for always assuming the worst from you. That isn’t fair to you and I’m working on it.” 

He nodded and gave a tight lipped smile, “I can’t blame you, Granger, but, thank you.”

“Of course,” Hermione returned his smile. A sudden thought occurred to her and she decided now was as good a time as ever to bring it up, “Since we’re trying our hands at friendship, may I request something of you?”

“Perhaps,” Malfoy quirked a brow at her.

She took a stray curl and started twisting it in her fingers nervously, “Well, you see, my 19th birthday is on the 19th—.”

“Your Golden Birthday, then.” Malfoy interrupted.

“Er, my what?” She looked at him, raising a brow.

“Your Golden Birthday,” Draco shifted, “It’s when you turn the age associated with your date of birth. It’s apparently meant to be the best year of your life.” He shrugged, “My birthday is on the 5th of June, and I must admit five was definitely a great year for me.” He smirked.

“Well,” she giggled, “I suppose it is then. I just… I thought I might invite some friends to our dormitory that evening, as a bit of a celebration, if that’s alright with you?” She held her breath.

“Of course. I’ll do my best to keep myself occupied elsewhere,” he nodded at her with a tight smile.

“Malfoy,” she rolled her eyes, “You’d be invited. Do you think I would have a party in our dorm and then ask you to leave?” She laughed.

He leaned forward and scratched his chin, “Wouldn’t your friends take issue with me being present?”

“I’ll be sure to let them know you’ll be in attendance, but it’s none of  _ their  _ concern who I want at  _ my  _ birthday party.” She turned her nose in the air and gave a huff, eliciting a chuckle from Malfoy. “In fact, if you’d like to invite someone to make you feel more comfortable, I’d be okay with that. If you let me know who it is beforehand.” Hermione gave her best, toothy smile.

“Oh,” he paused and his grey eyes flickered frantically back and forth, “I could invite, uhm, Theodore Nott, maybe?”

“Theodore Nott.. He’s the tall one with dark hair that used to hang around you?” She pondered.

“Yes,” the tendon in his jaw visibly twitched, “he’s an absolute twat, but he does know how to liven things up.” Malfoy let a thin smile spread across his lips.

“Well, without Ron,” she cleared her throat, “we definitely could use someone to shake things up.” She stood, “Please let him know he’s invited.” Malfoy looked up at her and nodded. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to get cleaned up now.” She gestured to the bathroom.

“Ah, yes. Uhm, enjoy.” He tried, awkwardly.

Hermione giggled, “Uh, thanks.” She summoned a set of fresh clothes and gave Malfoy another quick nod as she darted into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her heart was racing and she was shaking slightly as she spat out several silencing charms before yelling, “What the Hell just happened?!”

* * *

Malfoy had grown a lot since last year, he was noticeably taller than Harry and Ron at this point. She hadn’t noticed at his trials, as he was usually sitting and she was more focused on how sickly he had looked. His frame had filled out more, she assumed he had probably been eating regularly at this point. His muscles were defined but not too bulky, he must go to the Quidditch Training Pitch every morning to exercise. That must be why he’s always gone before she gets up. Perhaps he wasn’t avoiding her, after all. He had slight signs of sleep deprivation under his eyes, but his face was as porcelain and perfectly sculpted as it always had been. She thought about the way his hands had enveloped hers on the train. They were strong, his fingers long and elegant. She was quite surprised to feel them slightly calloused against her skin. She wondered what he did with them that caused this. “ _ What  _ **_could_ ** _ he do with them?”  _ She thought.

Hermione let out a gasp as she climaxed, her inner walls fluttering as her fingers clamped down on her clit and the feeling rolled through her. She pulled her hand away and laid back in the tub, letting the warm water cover her once more. It had been some time since she had pleasured herself. It wasn’t something she did often or even felt the urge to do, but today she couldn’t shake the feeling. Not even the thought of Malfoy on the other side of the wall stopped her. Her heart beat faster as she wondered if he was still in the armchair, just outside the door.

A flush was spread on her cheeks as the last wave ran over her. She sat up, hugging her knees, as she pulled the plug and watched the water drain. She was feeling tired from the day’s events, but her stomach growled. She pondered requesting some food from a house elf, but immediately felt guilty and decided she would hurry to the Great Hall.

She let out a sigh as she lifted herself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself. She cast a quick charm to banish the steam in the room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and began taking mental notes about her appearance.

She opened the towel and took stock. She had become quite muscular since their hunt for horcruxes. Her fitness regimen had seemed to be working, she saw tone muscles on her arms, her legs, and her abdomen. The top of her abs were noticeable under her ribs. Her breasts weren’t large, but the muscle in her chest had filled out and given her a bit of cleavage. She turned slightly and watched as her calves, hamstrings, and glutes all flexed.

Her hair was a wet mess she wouldn’t bother thinking about for now. Her skin was smooth and slightly freckled, with a bit of purple under her eyes. She didn’t sleep very well, so it was understandable. She sighed and wrapped the towel back around herself, snugly. She found her wand and cast a drying charm on her hair, then moved her wand in semicircles to braid it back along the sides of her face, gathering the majority of it in a bun at the nape of her neck. She thought for a moment about the dark circles under her eyes. She’d have to ask Ginny if she knew any tricks to help them.

Hermione had then quickly gotten dressed and exited the bathroom. Malfoy was no longer in the common area, so she tried a quick rap to his door. It seemed he had already left for dinner, so she quickly made her way through the halls. Upon arriving she scanned the hall, she found Malfoy’s blonde head and saw him conversing with someone, whom she suspected to be Theodore Nott. She pulled her gaze from them and quickly found her friends at the Gryffindor table.

She sat herself between Ginny and Neville and began to fill her plate. She had come into a passionate discussion about quidditch, something Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around. They were arguing about the World Cup and one of the players, she thought. The familiarity made her smile, though she was used to it being Harry and Ron on the receiving end of Ginny’s abuse.

Ginny stopped berating the boys across from her and sat back, finally noticing Hermione, “Oh! There you are, I was hoping you would join us, it would be nice to have an  _ intelligent  _ conversation,” she threw a look at the boys she had been arguing with, “for once.” She turned fully towards her and leaned in to whisper, “I really missed you, I have so much to tell you.” They exchanged smiles.

Hermione smiled and laughed as Ginny caught her up on the latest Hogwarts gossip, mentioning a lot of names that she didn’t recognize, but she was just glad Ginny was comfortable conversing with her again. While she listened and tried to keep it all straight in her mind, her eyes couldn’t help but wander across the hall to the Slytherin table, where she caught a pair of grey eyes staring back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “An apology offered and, equally important, received is a step towards reconciliation and, sometimes, recompense. Without that process, hurts can rankle and fester and erupt into their own hatreds and wrongdoings.”  
> —Margaret MacMillan


	10. Gloom of My Dark Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know about you all, but it’s snowing SO much where I am. It’s really beautiful, but so cold! ;( I hope everyone is staying warm and being safe! <3

Draco furrowed a brow and wiped his mouth as Blaise Zabini stared at him from across the dining table. “Would you mind?” Blaise asked again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why would I mind if you asked  _ Pansy Parkinson _ out?” Draco spat before putting another bite of a syrup soaked Belgian waffle into his mouth.

“Well, you’re my friend and I want to be respectful. . . considering she was your first. . .” Blaise’s deep voice trailed off.

“My first  _ what _ ?” He asked, licking at the sticky bit of maple that settled into the corner of his mouth, pointing his fork at Blaise, “Spit it out, Zabini.”

Blaise’s brows raised as he lowered his voice, “I mean, your  _ first.” _

“ _ What?  _ Pansy and I  _ never _ ,” he shuddered at the thought and shook his head, “I mean, there was a bit of snogging at the Yule Ball after she guilted me into it, but that was it,” he lifted his utensils into a shrug, “No, Zabini, I don’t care if you want to shag her.” He turned his attention back to his plate and stabbed a few pieces of egg onto his fork.

“I’m asking her to the Hallowe’en Feast, not trying for a quick shag, thank you.” Blaise said defensively, straightening his posture.

“Since when do you need to bring a date to dinner?” Draco set his fork down and reached for his cup of tea as he finished off his eggs.

“Well, more like the ball following the feast.” 

He cocked a brow and took a sip of his tea.

“Were you not listening when McGonagall announced it?” 

Draco shook his head and set his cup back down.

“I swear,  _ Head Boy _ , you could  _ try  _ to pay attention.”

He shrugged and went back to dissecting his waffle.

“You could  _ also  _ use your words.” Blaise said curtly.

“Fine,” Draco set his utensils down and wiped his mouth, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The Headmistress wants to put on a ball after the Hallowe’en Feast to help ‘ _ lift spirits,’”  _ Blaise said, the last few words in a mock Scottish accent he had grown quite skilled at, “She feels that some of the students are still apprehensive about their stay at Hogwarts this year and thought a ball might help ease the tension.”

“Oh.” Draco cleared his throat, “I see. If you’d like to ask Pansy to accompany you, you have my full support, Blaise. I didn’t shag her, so if you were worried about any,” he grimaced, “cross contamination, then no need.”

Blaise gave a small sigh, “I wasn’t worried about anything like that. I wanted to be respectful of my mate if he still had some feelings towards his old flame.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “ _ Please _ . Pansy’s nice and all, but it wasn’t anything serious. I told you, I just snogged her out of guilt.”

“What exactly were you guilty of?” Theo chose this moment to chime back into the conversation, leaning against Draco’s right arm.

“It was nothing, really.” Draco jerked away from Theo and started in on the stewed apples on his plate.

“Come onnnnn.” Theo drawled, leaning into him again.

“It was nothing,” Draco shrugged him off again, “She thought I was staring at another girl and got all self-conscious because I hadn’t mentioned her appearance, you know how she is. The only way I could get her to shut up was to stick my tongue down her throat.”

“What other girl?” Blaise asked, stiffly as he nursed his own tea.

The back of Draco’s neck got hot, as a wall began to quiver far back in his mind. Stifling back a sneer and setting a faux look of confusion on his face he said dryly, “Who could remember? Pretty sure it was all in her head.” He crunched into a full slice of apple.

Theo chuckled, “Yeah, our Pansy sure does know how to get jealous over nothing.”

“She’s not  _ our  _ Pansy. Watch your tone, Nott.” Blaise shot daggers at Theo and Draco let out a deep breath through his nose as he took his time chewing through the warm piece of cinnamon apple.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Theo cooed at Blaise raising his hands in surrender, “but you know,” he quirked a brow and turned his attention back to Draco, “I do remember someone looking  _ extra  _ spectacular that evening.”

Draco shot him a look that screamed “ _ shut the fuck up _ ” and it merely caused a light to flicker behind Theo’s eyes as he continued, “Hermione Granger looked absolutely stunning that evening, wouldn’t you say?” He flashed a smug smile towards Draco.

“I do recall her looking quite different that night,” Blaise shrugged, “she still hasn’t got anything on Pansy.”

Theo’s nose crinkled, “Ew, you’re not even dating her yet, Blaise. You don’t have to be so  _ mushy. _ Besides, you can just admit someone is aesthetically attractive without meaning you want to shag them.” He turned towards Draco, “Can’t you, Draco?”

Draco audibly swallowed the last bite of apple and spat, “Sure.” He reached for his tea and took a large drink to help the bite on its way down.

“I  _ mean,” _ Theo’s eyebrows flew up, “Can’t you admit that  _ Granger _ was attractive that night?” Theo batted his eyelashes towards Draco.

“ _ I’m going to fucking kill him.”  _ Draco thought before letting a neutral expression spread across his face and let out a simple, “I suppose she looked nicer than usual that evening. Now,” Draco wiped his mouth and stood, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Blaise nodded and Theo held his smirk as Draco excused himself from the table. He shot a quick glance to the Gryffindor table, finding the bushy haired Head Girl enjoying her breakfast with the other Gryffindors, completely unaware the three Slytherin boys had been discussing her. He left the Great Hall and sucked his teeth as he tried to decide whether or not he would still invite Theo to Granger’s party, while simultaneously trying to figure out a way to kill him that wouldn’t break his probation.

“Mister Malfoy.” The Headmistress had suddenly appeared before him in the hall, as if she was summoned by the thoughts of him simply  _ considering  _ breaking his probation.

“Headmistress,” he nodded, trying to slow his now racing heart.

“Will you please accompany me to my office?” She said dryly, and Draco realized she wasn’t really asking.

“Of course, Headmistress.”

* * *

“And how is working so closely with Miss Granger?” The analyst asked as she stared at the dancing lights hovering above his arm. She had a name, but Draco had been so caught off guard at her presence that he hadn’t caught it when McGonagall had introduced them. She was probably around his mother’s age, definitely younger than the Headmistress. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun and her robes were less than extraordinary. Pretty much what you’d imagine a social worker would look like, quite boring. 

The lights seemed to change color abruptly when the question was asked, and the quick quotes quill scribbled furiously as she quickly hid a small smirk from him.

He gritted his teeth, “It was difficult at first, she was understandably upset with me and hesitant to work with me, but I think we’ve found an equilibrium recently.”

“Oh?” The middle-aged witch looked at him in a similar way his mother did when she thought he was hiding something. “And why do you think that?”

Draco shrugged, “She’s invited me to her birthday party.”

“How delightful,” the witch cooed and looked over her notes. “Well, Mister Malfoy,” she removed her wand from his arm and the lights vanished, “I think that’s all the questions the ministry has for today.” A tight smile pulled across her red stained lips. Draco pulled his sleeve back down and smoothed the creases out as she gathered the rest of her things. “We just wanted to check in on how you’re adjusting now that you’re back at school, which seems to be fine. You certainly still have a temper, but you don’t act on it. Very good.” She smiled at Draco then turned toward the Headmistress, “Minerva, moving forward we’ll be visiting at the start of each month, if that’s acceptable?”

“Anything for the Ministry.” The old witch nodded.

“Wonderful!” She reached out to shake her hand. “I’ll be back each month with a list of questions to evaluate your psychological state and Pipney,” she smiled at the house elf who had been quietly waiting in the office, “will continue to run your diagnostics and alert the Headmistress if anything unusual shows up. Do you have any questions for me, Mister Malfoy?” Her questions had mostly concerned how Draco was getting along with the other students, very few had to do with his own well-being. He tried to hide his irritation and take his chance with the witch.

“How is my father?” He asked cautiously.

“Better, actually,” she straightened her robes, “he started to talk and seems like he’s willing to negotiate. Only on  _ his terms, _ of course,” Draco suppressed a knowing chuckle, “but I’m hopeful he will be willing to assist us in identifying more Death Eaters that are in hiding.’ She sighed, “That’s all I’m at liberty to say about your father though, rest assured he is in good health.” Draco nodded in return, “What else?”

“Is there anything I can take to help me get some sleep?” He asked, trying to bite back his desperation.

“Having trouble sleeping?” The witch’s brows furrowed.

“Yes,” he shifted uncomfortably at his own vulnerability, “I have a lot of nightmares that make it nearly impossible to get more than a few hours each night. I’m exhausted more often than not.”

“Hm,” the witch seemed to ponder for a few moments, “I do suppose an argument could be made that sleep deprivation might affect you psychologically and consequently cause unusual behavior and skew your evaluations.” The witch gave Draco a small smile, “I’ll make a case for it and send word once I have a solution for you. But do try some chamomile or lavender tea before bed, for now?” Draco nodded in response, willing his eyes not to roll into the back of his skull. “Anything else, dear?”

“One more thing. I was wondering,” summoning his courage, Draco sat upright and cleared his throat, “If I might be permitted to visit Hogsmeade sometime soon?”

The witch eyed him curiously and said, “That’s of no concern to the ministry,” she twitched her head towards McGonagall, “it’s up to your headmistress. As long as the school permits it, the ministry has no qualms.” She shrugged. “If that’s it, I’ll be off then.” Draco nodded once more, then the witch tucked her things under arm, bidding farewell to the Headmistress and the house elf and disappearing into the floo, Pipney popping away shortly after.

“Why do you wish to visit Hogsmeade, Mister Malfoy?” McGonagall moved to face Draco, who was trying to appear as neutral as possible.

“I’m not sure if you heard earlier,” he cleared his throat, “but I’ve been invited to Granger’s birthday party. I was raised to never turn up empty handed.” He tried a tight smile to the Headmistress.

She pursed her lips and studied him for a moment, arms crossed in front of her. After a few long moments she asked, “You’d like to purchase a gift for Miss Granger’s birthday?”

“Is that an issue?” He said, unsure of himself.

“No, not necessarily,” she uncrossed her arms, “It just seems you’ve come a long way in the span of a week.”

“Granger’s more forgiving than I thought,” Draco gave a small shrug, “she’s also quite persistent when it comes to making friends, it seems.”

McGonagall blinked at Draco, taking a moment to collect her thoughts, “Well, I do need to visit Hogsmeade soon myself. I suppose the Head Boy could assist me with my visit, and he could do some,” she did her best to hide a smile but he still noticed it, “ _ personal  _ shopping while he waits. Would you mind assisting me?”

“Of course, Headmistress,” Draco quickly stood, and gave the slightest bow to her.

“I’ll send for you next Saturday, then, Mister Malfoy.” She nodded at him, “If there’s nothing else, you’re excused.”

“Thank you,” Draco returned her nod and strode past her to take his leave, smiling to himself.

* * *

Moving quickly into the dormitory as the portrait swung open, Draco was met with Granger standing with a stack of books in her arms, almost running into her and causing her to regain her balance.

“Oh,” she squeaked, then smiled, “Good morning, Malfoy.”

“Morning,” He nodded and put his hands in his pockets, “Do you have a weekend class, Granger?” Draco eyed the texts in her hands.

“No,” she laughed, “I’m on my way to meet Ginny to study, actually.”

Draco’s brow quirked, “A Weasley, studying? Really?”

“Well,” he watched as a slight blush began to spread across her cheeks, “Ginny’s a bit more studious than her brothers, she’s quite gifted with Charms, actually, but,” she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, “how much studying we’ll do remains to be seen.” She looked up at Draco and shrugged with a smile.

“Working our way through the Weasleys, are we, Granger?” His brows shot up and a smirk curled at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s  _ obviously  _ not what I meant, Malfoy.” She gave him a stern look, “Actually, this it the first time she’s asked to spend time with me since,” Granger’s voice trailed off and she began to chew at her lip the way she seemed to whenever the  _ Weasle’s  _ name was brought up.

“I see,” he cleared his throat in an attempt to save her from finishing her sentence, “Then I hope you enjoy your time.”

She looked up at him and smiled, “Thank you, Malfoy.”

“Try not to be late for our patrols tonight, though?” He moved his hand from his pockets to his hips, “ _ You will work with me, Head Girl, and not shuck your responsibilities.”  _ He said mockingly.

“You sound quite clever there, Head Boy,” Granger laughed, “Perhaps you should speak like that more often.” She took a few steps towards him and seemed to make sure he could see her rolling her eyes.

Draco chuckled at her attitude and noticed a small piece of parchment stuck in her hair, he reached out and plucked it quickly from her hair without thinking. She jumped slightly and her wide brown eyes met his, confused. He swallowed and held the parchment up for her to see, “Just getting this out of your hair, Granger. Really, you might try a brush once in a while.” He let the parchment fall to the ground between them as he quickly stuffed his hands back in his pockets.

“Oh,” she turned away, “Thank you. I’ll, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Don’t be late,” he said dryly as she nodded and moved past him to leave. After he heard the sound of her shoes fade and the portrait click closed, he let his head fall and smacked himself in the forehead, “Don’t fucking  _ touch  _ her, you idiot!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The friend in my adversity I shall always cherish most. I can better trust those who helped to relieve the gloom of my dark hours than those who are so ready to enjoy with me the sunshine of my prosperity.”
> 
> -Ulysses S. Grant


	11. Best Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe and warm! <3 Hope you all don’t mind my chapters getting longer. :-*

“I’m not sure if I should go,” Ginny huffed in the chair across from her, causing Hermione to look up from her textbook, “It feels strange to be going to a ball without Harry.” Ginny’s mouth drew tight and she looked at Hermione, “What do you think I should do?”

Hermione let out a small sigh as she closed her book. She wasn’t sure why she thought she might _actually_ get some studying done with Ginny today. They had been at it for hours but they had barely managed to get their Charms homework finished. She shrugged, “I think it’s just a bit of fun, you don’t have to have a date to go to the ball. It’s not a formal one, it’s just Hallowe’en.”

“I _know,_ but there will be dancing and I don’t want to be dancing alone,” the ginger moved forward to drop her head in her hand and quirked a brow at Hermione, “are...you going to attend with anyone?”

Hermione let out an awkward laugh, but ultimately felt relieved that Ginny was seemingly over the fact that she had rejected her brother’s proposal. “Well, as Head Girl, I’m kind of required to attend,” she played mindlessly with a loose curl near her shoulder, “so I hadn’t really considered it. I’ll mostly be on patrol that evening so the rest of the prefects can enjoy themselves. Wouldn’t be fair to keep abandoning my date every time there’s a bit of snogging.”

“Right. Well, I guess that rules _you_ out as my date then.” Ginny gave her a flirtatious wink and they both laughed.

“I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind if you asked one of the prefects to go with you? Maybe Seamus or Dean?”

“Perhaps,” Ginny puckered her lips, “I’ll write Harry and see what he thinks. I wouldn’t want the boys to miss out on a real date to escort me.”

“I bet any one of these boys would be _honored_ to escort Harry Potter’s _girlfriend.”_ Hermione purred playfully at Ginny.

“That may be,” she flipped her bright red hair with a dramatic flick of her wrist, “but they’ll all just be so devastated that the _Golden Girl_ will be unavailable for the evening.” Ginny pouted her bottom lip, suppressing a grin, “No one will pay me any mind once they realize that.”

“Hardly,” Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted.

“I’m serious, Hermione! Now that you’re _single_ ,” she leaned over the table towards her and Hermione winced as the word hung in the air, “you haven’t noticed the way boys have been staring at you?”

She could feel heat radiating from her temples and the nape of her neck. She hadn’t noticed anyone staring at her, when she wasn’t focusing on the professors, she was usually trying to decipher what Malfoy was doing at the back of the classroom. She blushed fiercely, “No. I haven’t.”

“Hermione, you’re brilliant, gorgeous, and a _war hero,”_ Ginny closed the distance and stuck a finger into her collarbone, “You could have _anyone_ you wanted.”

“Not _anyone.”_ She rolled her eyes again at the red head.

“Yes, _anyone._ All you have to do is ask, Hermione.” Ginny shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

Hermione chewed her lip as her mind wandered to a large hand closing tightly over her wrist, reaching out to remove a piece of parchment from her hair. She shook her head, shoving the _ridiculous_ thought aside, “Well, that’s irrelevant, Ginny. I can’t take a date to the Hallowe’en Feast, so continuing to talk about it is pointless.”

Ginny smirked and shrugged, “Fair enough. I was just making conversation.” She leaned over the table and squeezed Hermione’s hand, negligible to the way Malfoy’s hand had grasped hers on the train, “I’m really glad we can talk like this again.”

She let the thoughts of Malfoy fade and gave Ginny a smile, “I am too, Gin.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, “I do need to get going, though. I have patrols soon.”

“Ugh, Malfoy. I’m sorry you’re stuck with him.” Ginny sneered, “I’d offer to take some of your patrols, but, ugh, I think I’d lose a few house points myself.” She began to shadow box the air in front of her.

Hermione laughed, “ _Please,_ he’s actually not that bad. He’s pretty quiet, so patrols are rather uneventful unless we catch someone.” She shrugged, “Everyone’s fairly afraid of him, so we haven’t had much push back.”

“You’re truly a saint, ‘Mione.” Ginny fluttered her eyelashes.

Hermione’s heart felt heavy hearing Ron’s nickname for her, again. She gave Ginny a tight smile, “Speaking of Malfoy, actually. . .”

Ginny sat upright and glared, “Yeah?”

“I may have, uhm,” Hermione stared at a knot in the table between them and squeaked, “invited Malfoy to my birthday party…”

“WHAT!?!” Ginny yelled and Hermione thanked herself for knowing to cast a silencing charm whenever they studied together. “H-H-Hermione, why. . .?” She stuttered, flabbergasted, holding her arms out to Hermione with wide eyes, pleading.

“I think it’d be terribly rude of me to host a party in our dorm and not permit him—“

“WHO _CARES,_ IF ANYONE IS RUDE TO _MALFOY?!”_ She interrupted, shooting to her feet

“Ginny, _please,”_ she licked her lips and waited for Ginny to sit back down, “It’s my decision whom to invite and I’ve decided I’d like Malfoy to be there. He’s already been invited and I’ve allowed him to invite Theodore Nott as well, so it’s too late. He’s coming.”

“Why don’t you just send some invitations to the Death Eaters in Azkaban while you’re at it?” Ginny spat, crossing her arms and avoiding Hermione’s gaze.

Hermione moved to Ginny’s side and bent down to her level, placing a gentle hand on her crossed arms, “I’m not asking you to be friends with him, I just need you to be civil at my party. Please, Gin.”

Ginny’s glassy gaze eventually moved to Hermione’s eyes and let out a quiet growl, “ _Why?”_

“Why?” Hermione blinked a few times and sighed, “Because—because I’m trying to be his friend,” she exhaled, “I like speaking with him, actually,” Ginny glared so hard it made her throat catch, “he’s quite different than you’d expect. Listen, Gin,” she tightened her grip, “I have to spend so much time with him, what’s wrong with me trying to make it a little easier?” She pouted and looked up at Ginny with watery eyes.

Ginny glared for a few more moments, then rolled her eyes and threw her hands up, “ _Fine,_ I guess I can understand that, but if he gets even _mildly_ out of line, I’m not going to behave.”

Hermione smiled and threw her hands around her, “Thank you, thank you!”

Ginny laughed and then pushed her away, “Okay, okay, get off me. Don’t be late for your patrols.”

Hermione lifted herself up and gathered her things, smiling again at Ginny, “Really, thank you.”

“Ugh, piss off, Granger.” Ginny shooed her away and they both giggled.

* * *

Hermione stared at the small tube of liquid in her hand and contemplated using it. She twisted the top off and pulled out the applicator, the clear viscous liquid slowly dripping down. She stared at herself in the mirror, reimagining how it had made her lips look the night of the Yule Ball, “full and kissable” the Patil twins had said.

“Granger?” A knock at the door startled her and she dropped the tube, “I’m ready when you are.” Malfoy’s voice called out.

“Just a moment!” Hermione shouted, diving down to retrieve the tube. She shot back up, making herself slightly dizzy. She steadied herself and gave a quick swipe of the gloss, she rubbed her lips together quickly, shoved the applicator back into the tube, and quickly threw it back into her trunk. She smoothed her hair and robes quickly and opened her door to find Malfoy leaning against the closest arm chair. His attention shifted from a spot on the floor to her as she emerged and she could swear his gaze had fallen to her lips. Her cheeks burned as she let out a quick, “Shall we?” Rushing past him towards the portrait. She didn’t hear a response other than the click of his shoes falling in line behind her.

They walked side by side, observing either side of the hallway as they usually did. Their conversations had usually been about their school work and any deviation caused Malfoy to pull away from her, but since their conversation the prior evening, she was hoping to use the opportunity to get to know him, she just wasn’t sure where to start. “ _How’s your Death Eater father? Does he like Azkaban? When did your parents first start teaching you that muggles were inferior? What’s it like being the school bully?”_

“Do you run often?” Malfoy asked, turning his head slightly towards her, as if he knew she was having trouble finding something decent to say.

“I, uh, I try to,” she cleared her throat, “I’m still trying to adjust to all my courses, so yesterday was the first time I had been able to get around to it.”

“So, it’s an enjoyable activity?” He asked as he peered behind a suit of armor.

“Well, not at first,” she laughed, as she looked behind a tapestry, “It’s kind of miserable in the beginning, honestly. I made myself keep doing it, though. Eventually it started to hurt less, I got a bit further and a bit faster each time, and then at some point it actually made me feel good.” She looked back at him to find his grey eyes already on her and she looked away again, “When I’m running, I feel like all my problems are far away, and I can just enjoy the moment.” She turned back towards Malfoy and smiled, but he was looking ahead of them, she followed suit and tried to match his pace.

“That’s how I feel when I’m flying,” he said quietly as they continued down the hall, “Quidditch matches are exciting and all, but simply flying is the most relaxing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Other than falling off your broom, right?” Hermione laughed, but quickly swallowed it as he stopped walking and gave her a stern look, “Sorry! I don’t know why I said that, I shouldn’t have interrupted.” She spat quickly as her cheeks burned.

Malfoy's jaw twitched for a moment until he let out a dry laugh, “No, no, you got me, Granger. I don’t suppose falling off my broom is relaxing, no.” She let out an exhale as he continued walking. She took a few extra steps to catch up to him. “When I manage to stay on my broom, it’s like nothing can touch me, I don’t have any problems.”

“Hm,” she chewed her lip, “every time I’ve been on a broom I’ve been too busy begging for my life to have that feeling, unfortunately.”

Malfoy stopped abruptly and turned towards her, “Is _that_ why you hate flying?” 

Hermione realized this wasn’t the first time he had mentioned her distaste for the sport and stopped in her tracks, “How did you know I hate flying?”

Malfoy stopped and turned to her with a smirk and shrug, “Well, because you’re piss at it.”

“HEY!” She slapped the arm closest to her and he laughed, “I am _perfectly adequate_ at flying, thank you, I just don’t enjoy it.”

“ _Sure,_ Granger.” He looked down at her, smirking, “I’ll take you flying sometime, if you’d like, show you how it’s _really_ done.”

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes as she started walking away, “Yeah, I’ll fly with you if you go running with me.”

“It’s a deal, then.”

Hermione stopped again and turned towards him, “You’ll... go running with me?”

“Why not? You’ve talked it up so much, thought I might give it a go and see what you’re talking about.” He shrugged and then furrowed his brow, “Was that not a serious invitation?”

“No, no, it was,” she tucked a curl behind her ear, “I just wasn’t expecting you to agree, I suppose.”

Malfoy turned to her and leaned down to her and she felt his breath across her face, “I think you’ll find I’m quite agreeable when I’m getting what I want.” Hermione became too aware of her heartbeat.

“And what is it, that, you, uh, you want?” She stuttered.

He smiled and turned back to continue down the hall, “I just want to prove you’re not good at _something._ ”

Her ears burned as she caught up with him, “Malfoy, I—” he quickly spun and clapped a hand over her mouth, bringing his face close to hers again. Her eyes widened as she felt the warmth radiating from his hand and took in the startling silver of his eyes. He brought a finger to his mouth, signaling her to remain quiet as he removed his hand from her. He tilted his head towards a corridor. Hermione controlled her breathing, willed her heart rate to slow, and listened. After a few moments they locked eyes as they heard voices. Malfoy signaled her to follow him and she nodded her head as they both drew their wands and moved quietly towards the source of the voices.

Malfoy led her around a corner and then ducked into an alcove, ushering her in with him. She followed suit and tucked herself into the alcove with him, trying not to think about how she was currently pressed against Draco Malfoy, whose hands were just recently on her flesh, as he gestured for her to peek around the corner. She leaned forward just enough to make out two figures pressed together and, “ _Oh.”_ Her cheeks flushed as she realized they were snogging. 

The boy was tall and had to lean down a bit to reach the girl, who was standing on tiptoe, pulling herself up with her arms around his neck, his thigh pressed between her legs for _support._ His arms were out of view, undoubtedly sliding down her backside. They were too entangled to tell who either of the couple were and their coos and moans weren’t enough to go off of either, “ _Is it really that hard to cast a silencing charm?”_

She looked up at Malfoy who nodded and gestured for her to lead them out of the alcove. She took a deep breath and they both stepped out of the alcove, each casting a simultaneous silent _lumos._

“Alright, you two, knock it off!” Malfoy said sternly, then his mouth fell slightly open.

Hermione’s eyes adjusted and focused on the pair. The boy was turned away, fiddling with his trousers, but the girl he had been attached to turned towards them, running her fingers through her slick black bob. “ _Pansy Parkinson.”_ The realization hit Hermione so hard she took a half-step back, they had just intercepted Malfoy’s girlfriend _snogging_ someone else! She looked back at Malfoy and his jaw was tight as he glared at them.

“Didn’t see you there, Draco. How are you?” Pansy cooed as she finished stuffing her blouse back into her skirt. The boy had turned around and Hermione recognized him as Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy’s friends, at least, he _was_ Malfoy’s friend.

“You two really act quickly, you know,” Malfoy laughed.

“Sorry, Draco,” Blaise scratched his neck as he snaked his other arm around Pansy’s waist.

“I’m assuming she accepted, then?” Malfoy flicked his wand at Pansy then back to Blaise.

“I did,” Pansy smiled as she leaned into Blaise.

“Congratulations, then.” Malfoy smiled. “However, as much as I hate to do this, I cannot forget my responsibilities as Head Boy,” he gave Hermione a slight nod, “Five points from Slytherin, each, for indecent behavior in the halls, after hours. Get to your dorms.”

“Worth it, mate.” Blaise winked and Pansy giggled as they turned and strolled towards the dungeons.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, flabbergasted. “What in Merlin’s sake, was _that?”_

“You’ve never seen two people snog before?” He quirked a brow.

“I know what snogging is,” she huffed, “but your _friend_ was _snogging_ your _girlfriend_ and _you_ ,” she raised her arms in disbelief, “ _congratulated_ them?” She ran her eyes over Malfoy’s face for some semblance of hurt, anger, betrayal, disgust, _anything,_ but only found a confused face.

“Granger, Parkinson is not my girlfriend,” he said curtly.

“Oh,” her cheeks flushed furiously, “I thought she, I thought the two of you were,” her mind filled with memories of Malfoy and Pansy at the Yule Ball, “were an item.” She bit her lip, nervously.

“I guess we kind of were for a bit,” he shrugged, “but a lot has changed since then.” He turned around and started walking back to their route. She followed quickly behind him.

“Are you alright?” She tried.

“What?” He stopped abruptly in front of her and turned around to face her, nearly causing her to run into him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just, your ex-girlfriend and your friend are together now,” she looked at her shoes, “I just don’t imagine that being the most pleasant feeling.” She looked back up at him.

Malfoy’s head was cocked and his brows were knitted together, he took a moment and said, “I really don’t have any feeling about it.” He shrugged, “Blaise asked me if I was okay with him inviting her to the Hallowe’en Feast and I told him I was. I meant it.”

“Oh!’ Hermione relaxed slightly, “I didn’t realize you already knew about it… you looked a little taken aback.”

“He just asked me this morning, I was just surprised it progressed so quickly. Pansy tends to play hard to get, I was just impressed.” He smirked at her, “I promise, there’s no hard feelings, I really am glad they’re together now. Maybe now Pansy will stop glaring at me.” He laughed and started walking again.

They continued along silently until they got back to their dormitory without any other disturbances for the evening. Malfoy had moved into their small kitchenette to brew a pot of tea. Hermione watched as he grabbed the pot and gestured towards the mugs, “Would you like one?”

“Please,” she nodded. He levitated the pot and mugs to the table between the arm chairs, charming the fire back to life, and settling into his usual chair. Hermione moved to sit across from his as he poured tea into each mug, sliding one over to her. She blew on the steam and took a sip. _Chamomile_. 

“How’d you move on?” She asked quietly.

“Hm?” Malfoy turned his head towards her, setting his mug down, his pinky cushioning the bottom of the mug.

“From Pansy, I mean. How did you move on?” She tried again.

Malfoy sat for a moment and she studied his face as he thought, watching his jaw tense and his eyebrows stitch together until he finally looked at her, “It was actually quite easy, Granger. You want to know how?”

“If you don’t mind.” She set her own mug down as quietly as she could manage.

“It’s a secret, though. You can’t tell.” He gave her a serious look.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He gestured for her to come closer and she leaned over the small table between them. He leaned in as well, bridging the gap between them and leaning into her ear, his breath moving a curl on her neck as he whispered, “I never loved her.” Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as he leaned away from her, smiling.

“I see, thank you for sharing,” Hermione let out quietly, reaching quickly for her tea.

“Is that disappointing?” He queried.

“No,” she winced as the too much, too hot tea burned her throat, “It’s exactly what I thought you would say.” There was an odd silence as Hermione focused on the flickering fire, fighting the urge to look at him.

“Well, if there are no further questions, I think I’ll retire for the evening,” he stood and turned towards her, “Good night, Granger.” She nodded and he turned away, gliding into his bedroom, leaving Hermione to sit alone in the common room as a tear rolled down her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The bells cease, and the power goes from me, and I descend again to the world of the living; and if in some foolish confiding moment I try to explain why I want to re-live those old days, to tear the Truth out of the past so that all men shall see plainly, perhaps someone will say to me, 'Oh, the War! A tragedy - best forgotten.’”
> 
> -Henry Williamson


	12. A Reputation Once Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I’m attempting to show glimpses of Draco’s week. I went back and forth on formatting, so hopefully this flows alright for you all. <3 I have some life changes coming up within the next few weeks, so I may have to alter my upload schedule, but it’s unclear. If you’re a weekly reader, I’ll make any scheduling changes/updates on my twitter: XandriaLette. I really like uploading on Thursdays though, so I’ll be doing my best to keep it that way, I just have anxiety and like to give plenty of notice IN CASE anything happens.  
> Enjoy! Xoxo

Draco pulled his head out from beneath his pillow, straining his eyes to find his wand, cursing from the lack of sleep. He rose to his feet and groggily handled his wand, making his bed back neatly while he stretched. He let out a yawn while summoning a fresh uniform from his wardrobe. He cast a silencing charm on his door as he opened it. Once the door was shut silently behind him, he took to his usual routine of tip toeing to the bathroom, but something in the common room made him freeze.

Granger was sitting in the same armchair he had left her in last night. Well, barely. She was slumped to the side, her legs kicked over the opposite arm rest, a book laid open in her lap. Her mouth was barely ajar and her eyes were squeezed shut. Draco looked between her and the clock on the wall. There were a few hours until classes started for the day. She must have fallen asleep in the chair and spent the evening there after their odd conversation the night before. He had tossed most of the night, wondering if his honesty was too much for their young friendship.

“ _ Should I wake her?”  _ He thought, then shook his head, “ _ No, she seems to like to sleep in, she might be angry.”  _ He sucked his teeth and let out a quiet sigh. “ _ Honestly, Granger, you could catch a cold.”  _ He set his uniform and wand down and slowly moved towards her, watching carefully to make sure he didn’t disturb her. He reached for the book, his hand hesitating momentarily before pulling the book slowly from her lap, closing it quietly. He glanced at the cover,  _ The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe.  _ He raised a brow and moved to set it aside. He checked to see if Granger had been disturbed, but she still sat in the same slumped position.

“Granger,” Draco whispered as quietly as he could manage, “I’m going to take you to your room now.” He waited for a response, but only heard her breathing. He moved closer, holding his breath, and slowly slid his hand under her knees, snaking his arm through and gently gripping the side of her thigh. He checked again, still undisturbed. He snuck his right arm under her back, resting his fingers lightly on her ribs. He took a short, shallow breath and slowly lifted her into his arms until they were standing. He tried to move his arm to support her head, but she began to stir. He held his breath, bracing himself for her to awake in a panic, but she simply curled into his arms, tucking her head against his chest. It dawned on him as her loose curls tickled his flesh, causing a chill to run up his spine, that he was still shirtless. He exhaled quietly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up.

Draco took long, quiet steps towards her room. He hesitated, questioning again if it was the right thing to do, but it was decidedly too late. He pushed into her room and tried to keep his gaze on his path, making a beeline for her bed. He set her down gently on her bed and she immediately rolled over and let out a sigh. He waited to make sure she hadn’t woken up, then pulled the duvet over her. He moved swiftly out of the room, closing her door quietly behind him. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. Then moved to collect his things and continue his morning routine.

* * *

Draco took his usual spot at the back of the Ancient Runes classroom. He was looking over his text book while the rest of the students filed in, all taking care to not sit too closely to him. He was mentally translating a rune when the sound of books hitting the table next to him disturbed him. He glanced to his side to find Granger sliding into the seat next to him. He cleared his throat, “Granger, what—,” Professor Babbling interrupted him by beginning the class. Granger brought a finger to her lips, signaling for Draco to be quiet. He rolled his eyes at her.

He quietly ripped a small piece of parchment from his roll and wrote, “ **What are you doing?** ” He slid it towards her nonchalantly.

She didn’t take her eyes off the front of the room, but she stealthily took the piece of parchment and once it was in front of her, she glanced, and then appeared to scan her book. She picked up her quill and scribbled on it, pushing it back to him. He glanced at it. “ **Trying to learn. Is that an issue?** ” 

He suppressed a scoff and scribbled, “ **Of course not, but why are you sitting there?”** He slid it back to her.

Granger scribbled quickly and returned it, “ **Were you saving this seat for someone?** ”

Draco rolled his eyes and dipped his quill again, “ **No, but the other students may find it odd that you’re sitting next to me.”**

She smirked as she crafted her response, “ **I don’t care.** ”

He rolled his eyes, “ **Fine, your funeral.”**

Granger took longer this time to acknowledge the note and craft a response. She finally slid it back to him, “ **Thank you for taking me to bed.** ”

Draco’s ears burned red and he quickly shoved the piece of parchment in between the pages of his textbook. He stole a sideways glance to see her smiling. “ _ Was she awake the whole time?” _

“ _ Isn’t she known for being clever, Draco? She probably deduced she didn’t carry herself in there.”  _ He ground his teeth as he tried to push his father’s voice back behind the wall in his mind. He turned his attention back to the front of the room, taking mental note of the students now staring at the two of them.

* * *

After class, Draco moved quickly to collect his things and exit the classroom well before Granger did, pushing past the students that had previously been whispering while staring at them with wide eyes. He rounded a corner and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to exit. After a few moments she came strolling in front of him.

“Granger!” He stepped towards her, gripping his school bag tightly.

“Hey, Malfoy! Do you want to walk together?” She beamed.

“Granger,” he grabbed the strap of her bag and pulled her closer to him, he spoke quietly, “I understand we’re trying to be friends, but do you think it’s wise for you to be seen with me so often?”

She quirked a brow at him, “Why wouldn’t it be? We’re Head Students, so it’s natural for us to be seen together,” She shrugged, “Besides, you’re the only one I know in Ancient Runes.”

“The other students were staring at us and whispering,” he hissed, “I think it’s best for you if we kept our interactions to our patrols and within our dormitory.” 

Granger pivoted to face him directly, pulling the strap of her bag from his grip, her cheeks were flush, “ _ I’ll  _ decide what’s best for  _ me,  _ Malfoy. If you want to try and be my friend, you’re going to have to trust that I can handle whatever consequences may come from our friendship,” she took a deep inhale and Draco’s eyes widened, “and that  _ I’ll _ decide who I  _ do _ and  _ don’t _ want to be seen with. Now if  _ you _ don’t want to be seen with  _ me _ , then just say so.” She glared at him.

“No, that’s not what I—,”

“ _ Good.”  _ Granger interrupted him, “Now, would you please escort me to our next class? We can discuss patrols on the way if it will put you at ease.”

“Al-Alright.” He swallowed audibly and shook his head at her.

“Great!” She smiled and started walking briskly towards their next class. Draco had to take a few extra steps to catch up with her.

* * *

“I heard you were hanging around Granger an awful lot, yesterday,” Theo grinned as he played with the food on his plate. Draco’s eyes narrowed as he continued, “What’s that about then?” Theo took a large bite.

“ _ She’s  _ the one who wouldn’t leave  _ me  _ alone,” he rolled his eyes, “I told her people would start talking, but she said she didn’t care.” He lifted his goblet and started to drink.

Theo swallowed and pointed his fork towards him, “So you told her you fancy her?” Draco choked on the pumpkin juice, spitting it across the table and into Theo’s face. He moved to wipe it away with a dramatic flick of his wrist, “Guess I deserved that.”

Draco scowled, “I don’t  _ fancy  _ her,” he dabbed at the juice running down his chin, “I just told her I’d like to be friends.”

“And?” Theo’s eyes lit up.

He shrugged, “She agreed.”

“Draco!” Theo slammed his cutlery onto the table, “That’s bloody brilliant! You should have told me! Good for you, mate!”

“It’s hardly anything I’d run to tell you,” his eyes rolled, “although I guess I should mention,” he scratched his neck, “Granger’s birthday is on the 19th and she’d like to have a party in our dorm.” Theo’s mouth started to quirk into a smile. “And she said I could invite you, if you’d like.”

“If I’d like?!” Theo’s arms shot out and grabbed Draco’s hands, “An invitation to the  _ Golden Girl’s _ Birthday Party? In the  _ Head Student’s  _ Dorm? How could I resist? I accept!”

Draco ripped his hands away from him, “Do not make me regret inviting you, Nott.”

Theo put his hands over his heart, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Draco dealt with dirty stares from the “Hermione Granger Fan Club,” along with a few threats brought to him by differing owls over breakfast. He always quickly disposed of the letters and returned the glares, trying to keep Granger from noticing. Even though she insisted that she didn’t care, he did his best to make sure she didn’t notice all the negative attention they were receiving, though it had been all directed at him. He found himself quite thankful to be Head Boy, otherwise, he wasn’t sure how the student body would have reacted. Images of pitchforks and torches came to mind.

Granger had sat herself next to him in most of their classes that they had in common, save the ones she had already established seating arrangements with her Gryffindor friends. She started smiling and waving at him anytime they weren’t sitting together, as if they hadn’t seen each other several times throughout the day already. He’d give a reluctant nod as the other students behind her sneered at him.

Blaise had been all but consumed with Pansy. They couldn’t keep their hands off one another and when they were apart, it’s all Blaise could talk about. Draco was growing tired of hearing about it, tired of seeing it, and he had the strangest feeling Pansy was staring at him when they snogged. He did his best to avoid being caught alone with the pair and sought out Theo when his and Granger’s schedules didn’t align. However, Theo was nearly equally as insufferable as the handsy couple since Draco had invited him to Granger’s birthday party.

“What do you think partying with Gryffindors is like?” Theo theorized, laying down on the plush chaise the Room of Requirement had materialized. “Think their drinking games are centered around acts of courage?” He laughed, then quickly shot up, “Or are they too goody goody to even drink?” He turned to Draco, taking hold of his robes, “ _ Please _ tell me there will be alcohol there.”

“I didn’t think to ask,” Draco peeled his hands off.

“I better bring some of my own, just in case.” 

“Sure,” he shrugged, then stood, collecting his things, “I think I’ll be off, though.”

“Ugh, come on, mate. Since Blaise and Pansy got together, the Slytherin dorm has been unbearable,” he let out an exaggerated sigh, “Please don’t make me go back. I can’t stand to see Blaise reduced to a puddle of doting, soggy,” Theo’s face twisted up, “whatever you call  _ that.”  _ He threw his hands up in a wild gesture, “It’s disgusting.”

“I totally understand, Theo,” Draco clapped a hand on his shoulder, “but I do have Head Boy duties to attend to,” he kept moving towards the door as Theo scoffed dramatically, throwing himself back down.

Draco moved quickly through the halls and ignored several glares and under the breath comments as he returned to their dorm. The portrait swung open and Granger’s head popped up from the writing desk she was currently slumped over. She had several texts open and she was charming small pieces of parchment into origami horses that were galloping around the desk.

“Hey,” she said lazily.

“Afternoon, Granger,” he tried awkwardly as she continued to stare at him, “I didn’t mean to disturb you, please continue,” he gestured towards her parchment parade.

“Oh,” she turned back and dispelled the charm, “I was just finishing up. You’re not disturbing.”

“Is, uh,” he took a few hesitant steps forward, “everything alright?” Granger appeared to be a bit disheveled, her shirt wasn’t tucked in and her hair was half tied up, most of it had fallen out. One of her socks was falling down her leg. He bit back a laugh at her sloppy appearance.

“Yes, I’m just having a bit of a mental block on my potions project. It’s been awhile since I’ve been behind a cauldron and I’m feeling a bit rusty,” she looked up at Draco as she massaged her temples.

“May I?” He pointed at the texts in front of her.

“Sure,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

Draco moved closer to look at the books in front of her. Several potions texts were in front of her, along with a piece of parchment, covered in Granger’s handwriting, most of which had been crossed out. He picked up the parchment and after piecing the information together he asked, “You’re brewing a Hate Potion?”

“Theoretically, yes. I have to come up with a recipe and then we’ll test it in class, but I’m a little stuck at this point. Not being able to actually work with the ingredients is,” she sighed again, “frustrating.”

Draco moved the texts on the corner of the desk and sat down to face her, one leg still on the ground, “Granger, you’ve consistently beat me out for the top spot in Potions, you need to be confident in your knowledge,” he held up the scribbled parchment, “you’ve got all the right components, you’re just second-guessing yourself.”

She looked up at him and stared at him for a moment, then reached out to take the parchment back from him, she looked over it for a moment then sighed, “Thank you, but I’m still stumped.” She dropped the parchment back on the desk and let her head fall back and let out a sigh as her arms hung limp beside her. Draco sucked his teeth for a moment. “ _ How do you convince the Golden Girl that she’s brilliant?” _

Draco stood from the table, “Alright, Granger, get changed.”

She lifted her head to look at him, “for what?”

“We’re getting out of the dorm,” he crossed his arms.

“Why?”

“You need to clear your head and I need this mess,” he gestured towards her, “fixed up as well. Go get into your running clothes and I’ll change as well.”

Granger quirked an eyebrow, “I’m in the middle of school work, Malfoy.”

“Yes, but it’s Friday. You’ve got all weekend to work on this! Get a move on, Granger.” He rolled his eyes and moved past her to enter his bedroom, hearing her let out a sigh as she rose from the table, stomping to her bedroom.

* * *

“ _ I’m going to die. She tricked me! She’s going to kill me. This was her plan all along!”  _ Draco was bent over, hands on his knees, gulping down whatever air he could. Trying to hold his head at an angle to stop the salty sweat from running into his eyes.

“You can breathe better if you stand up,” Granger laughed as she pulled at his left arm, forcing him to stand upright.

“I’m.. going to... f-fall,” he choked out between breaths.

“Here,” she laughed, pulling his arm around her shoulders, “lean on me for now.”

Draco’s eyes darted to her as the sensation of his damp sleeve sliding against her warm, damp skin distracted him from his burning lungs. Granger had laughed at him when he had suggested running in his Quidditch uniform. They had compromised a bit and she transfigured his uniform into a long-sleeve shirt and pants that he was told muggle men often wore to exercise in. The fabric of the shirt was slick and breathable, he wondered if this was typical of muggle material, or if Granger had included some kind of cooling charm in her transfiguration.

He looked at her, realizing he hadn’t been this close to her since he threatened her on the train. He was angry at that moment and hadn’t taken the time to actually  _ look _ at her. Her face was slightly flush from the exertion, sweat beading at her hairline, freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, a few loose curls had fallen out of the hair elastic she had used to pull most of her hair back at the nape of her neck. Some of the hairs stuck to the sides of her face, while others bounced freely, framing her face well. His eyes began to trace the blush down her neck and he quickly averted his gaze to the ground.

“Drink this.”

Draco looked at her again, she had conjured a goblet, which she was holding close to him. He panted and took it from her, knocking the water back quickly. He wiped his mouth and managed to say, “Thank you,” without gasping for breath in the middle.

“I told you it was miserable at first,” she giggled as she took the goblet back and vanished it. “You didn’t have to try and keep up with me.”

“Too late for that now, Granger,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Hey,” she shoved her shoulder into his side, “not everything is a competition, you know.”

“You  _ took off _ , how am I supposed to learn if I can’t  _ see _ my teacher!” He gestured his free hand in front of them.

“Fair enough,” she slipped out from under his arm, leaving her grip on his forearm to support his balance as she faced him, “I’m sorry I didn’t adjust to your level.”

Draco stared at her hand currently wrapped around his forearm, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his sleeve, she’d be touching his Dark Mark. He wondered if she could sense it through his sleeve. After a few moments of silence she loosened her grip and brought her hands back to herself and Draco righted himself, “Well, don’t worry, I won’t take it out on you during your flying lesson.” He smirked and brushed the strands of hair that stuck to his face back.

“Oh,” Granger squeaked, “are you sure you’re not, uhm, not too tired for that? Maybe we can do that another day?” She began to chew her lip.

Draco moved closer to her and leaned slightly down to catch her gaze and smirked, “We had an agreement, Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A reputation once broken may possibly be repaired, but the world will always keep their eyes on the spot where the crack was.”
> 
> -Joseph Hall


	13. Bodiless Airs, A Wizard Rout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal News: I’ve accepted an offer for a new position working in my field! (I graduated in January so this is very exciting!) I will be adjusting to a new schedule over the next month, but after reviewing it with my supervisor, I don’t foresee it interfering with my publishing schedule. :) Just in case, I’m using my time before I start to get as ahead as I can on chapters, and I’ll always let you know if there are any delays (or possible delays) for those of you that are keeping up with me weekly. 
> 
> Story News: We’re getting to a really good point in the story, and I’m SOOO excited for what’s coming up in the next few weeks. Thank you to all those leaving kudos, comments, and subscribing and/or Bookmarking! You’ve all encouraged me so much. <3

Hermione certainly did not  _ care  _ that Malfoy seemed so indifferent towards love. No, she was simply perplexed. She had come to think of him as someone vastly capable of love, even testifying to the fact that his actions as a Death Eater were all motivated by his deep love for his family. A warm, conditionless love, that’s what Hermione had thought. Hearing Malfoy respond so coldly and curtly about never loving Pansy had caught her off guard. She knew he wasn’t outwardly the most expressive person, but she had a suspicion that he was probably a pathetically clingy and devoted boyfriend. His behavior had implied her hypothesis was wrong. Nothing could infuriate Hermione more than feeling completely wrong. Sometimes her frustration caused her to cry, that’s all, she was frustrated. Hermione had decided perhaps she didn’t have all the right data, or was observing the wrong variables, so she had started paying more attention to him, spending more time with him. She did not  _ care _ whether or not he was capable of the different types of love, he was simply a complex arithmancy problem that she was determined to solve.

The facts are this, Draco Malfoy is capable of familiar love,  _ storge _ . It could be argued that his love for his parents is also selfless love,  _ agape _ . He had displayed physical affection with Pansy, so he is likely capable of romantic love,  _ eros,  _ whether he considered that love or not. 

Hermione knew Malfoy had friends, but she was unsure of the depths and validity of these friendships, leaving affectionate love,  _ Philia,  _ and self love,  _ Philautia,  _ still in question. Although his ego during their first few years at Hogwarts did suggest he was capable of philautia, the people he surrounded himself with contradicted it. After observing, it seemed the only people at Hogwarts he regularly interacted with were Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and by extension, Pansy Parkinson. This does not mean he isn’t connecting with others outside of Hogwarts.

The types of love that truly left Hermione curious were playful love,  _ Ludus,  _ obsessive love,  _ mania,  _ and enduring love,  _ Pragma.  _ While playful love often leads to romantic love, it’s entirely possible to have romantic love without playful, even vice versa. Just because she had seen Malfoy and Pansy snogging, doesn’t mean they ever reached a point of Ludus.

This is what she knew and she simply wanted to know more, that’s all. Her focus was on seeing if he was capable of Philia and philautia. Growing her friendship with him was the best way to do that, then perhaps she would be able to get more insight on his capacity for other types of love. They were trying to be friendly with another, so what’s the harm in spending a little extra time on the effort?

Hermione reminded herself of the parameters of her experiment, reciting the types of loves repeatedly, as she held her grip around Malfoy’s torso tightly.  _ “Storge, Agape, Eros, Ludus, Philia, Philautia, Mania, Pragma.”  _ He had insisted they begin their flying lessons after their run. She had returned his quidditch uniform to its original state and in turn he transfigured her running clothes into something more suitable for flying. It’s not that Hermione didn’t understand how to fly, she did, she could, but Malfoy  _ enjoyed  _ flying and he was trying to show her how to  _ enjoy  _ it.

“I, I think this is high enough,” she squeaked into his ear, as she watched the ground move further from beneath her feet.

“How am I going to teach you to dive if we don’t get enough altitude?” Malfoy looked over his shoulder.

“ _ DIVING?  _ That’s a Third Year maneuver, Malfoy! Can’t we start with weaving or  _ something _ ,” she gulped, “a little closer to the ground?  _ Please _ ?”

He stalled the incline and looked back at her again with a furrowed brow as they floated in midair, “You know, if you had just continued to take Flying you wouldn’t be so scared.”

“I had a lot of other classes I wanted to take much more than  _ flying,  _ it didn’t fit in my schedule!” Hermione kept her gaze on his to avoid looking down, she watched his cool grey eyes search her own as his brow gradually relaxed.

Malfoy let out a sigh, “Okay, we’ll start with more basic maneuvers,” he turned forward and they began to descend with a slight jerk that caused Hermione to startle and tighten her grip around his waist, “Granger, your first lesson is to not prevent the flyer from breathing.” He looked back at her again.

“Sorry!” She loosened her grip, slightly, keeping her gaze on his back, “I didn’t mean to restrict your breathing.”

He chuckled, “It’s fine, I should have warned you we were going to move again.” Malfoy continued to lower them until they were only a few feet above the ground. “Is this alright?”

“Yes, this is fine.”

“Okay, I’m going to show you how to weave through those obstacles,” he gestured towards some posts that were erected on the training pitch, “after I talk you through it, I’d like you to try as well, okay?”

Hermione nodded and Malfoy let her know he was going to begin, and she tightened her grip, but he didn’t complain. They moved casually between the posts, Malfoy talking her through the movements as they went, emphasizing how far to lean each way for the most efficient movement, assuring her they wouldn’t fall. After moving through the obstacles twice, he brought them back to the ground to dismount.

“I’d like to see you try now,” he held the broom out to her with an open palm and a smile.

“Oh, okay.” She shook slightly as she summoned the broom, it wobbled slightly then jumped into her hand. She moved to mount it but was quickly thrown off as Malfoy got on behind her, “Are you—?”

“Did you think I was going to let you do this by yourself?” She looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes, “I don’t want to be responsible for you crashing, so I’m coming with you.”

She nodded and swallowed. As they lifted off, she could feel the warmth of Malfoy as he leaned into her, he reached his arms around her and his hands slid over hers, adjusting her grip, his mouth right next to her ear. “You’re too tense, your motions will be jerky and you’ll lose your balance easily. Relax, I won’t let you fall.”

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she nodded her head and adjusted her grip until his hands moved away from hers and then snaked their way around her waist. She moved them forward and as they approached the obstacles Malfoy talked her through the movements and sang her praise each time they successfully wove through the poles. She felt warmth growing across her face and chest as she reached the finish line and Malfoy gave a slight squeeze to her shoulders as he congratulated her, “Great work, now try it again, a bit faster.”

Hermione looped them back to the beginning, gaining speed, then wove through the obstacles a bit faster this time, Malfoy cheering her on rather than coaching her this time. When she darted through the finish line, Malfoy pumped his hands in the air and did his best impression of a roaring crowd. She brought them back to the ground and they dismounted.

“See, Granger! You can do anything, you just have to get out of your own head.” He smiled as he took the broom from her and gave her a friendly slap on her bicep with the hand that previously had been on her waist.

“ _ His smile is nice.”  _ Hermione couldn’t help but feel a smile spread across her own face as she rubbed at the spot he had touched, it almost seemed contagious. Perhaps because it was so rare to see anything other than a sneer or smirk from him. She wasn’t sure if it was his smile or her sense of accomplishment, or a combination, but she felt warmth radiating through her and spilling from her mouth, “You’re a wonderful teacher, Malfoy. Have you considered it as a career?”

Malfoy’s smile faded quickly, which Hermione felt was tragic to witness. Like a work of art quickly catching flame. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she wondered what she had done wrong, she whimpered slightly, “I’m. . .I’m sorry.”

“No,” Malfoy shook his head, “don’t apologize for asking a question.” He let out a dry chuckle as he gripped the broom with both hands, “To be honest, I had considered it when I was younger. I actually told my parents I wanted to play Quidditch professionally, but my father said that wasn’t a respectable career for a Malfoy.” His gaze fell to his shoes and she watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the broom. “I was rather disappointed, but thinking of how my mother always said I had to respect my tutors, I thought my father would consider a flying instructor as respectable. I thought I was quite clever for coming up with the compromise, maybe I could work  _ with  _ a professional Quidditch team at least,” He looked back up at Hermione with a tight smile, “I wasn’t allowed to fly for a month after that.”

“Oh, Malfoy, that’s terrible,” Hermione moved closer to him and started to reach out both arms to comfort him, when she realized what she was doing, she corrected herself and laid a soft hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry that happened.”

Malfoy looked at her hand briefly until she removed it from his shoulder. He shrugged, “My father’s in Azkaban now, so it doesn’t really matter anymore does it? I suppose I could be whatever I’d like now.” He gave Hermione a tight smile, but she could still sense a sadness behind his eyes. 

She started to chew her lip but winced, realizing the flying had chapped them. Hermione searched her pocket for her lip balm, then uncapped the tube and began to apply it. As she dragged it across her bottom lip, she caught Malfoy staring and she blushed. Feeling awkward she panicked and asked, “Uh, would you like some?” She held the tube out for him, then slowly started to bring it back, “Sorry, I don’t know why I would—.”

Malfoy plucked the tube from her hands suddenly and stared at it, turning it over in hands, then scanned her face, “What is it?”

“It’s lip balm, it’s used to moisturize the skin on your lips.”

He looked at it again, then back to her with a quirked brow, “Is this what you used on your lips the other night? It doesn’t seem as shiny.”

Hermione’s heart skipped and she felt her ears, neck, and cheeks burning furiously. He  _ was _ staring at her mouth that night. “Oh, uhm, no, er,” she wrung her hands together, “that was, uh, lip gloss.”

“And what does  _ that _ do?”

“The same thing, kind of, it’s mostly for cosmetic purposes, to uh,” she swallowed hard, “to improve the appearance of the lips.”

Malfoy’s gaze danced between her and the lip balm and Hermione tried to mentally will the training pitch to open up beneath them and swallow her whole, so he couldn’t ask her why she wanted to do that. His brow relaxed and he quickly swiped the balm across his own lips, then held it back out to her. She reached a shaky hand out to him and took it back. They locked eyes for a moment as she searched them, but he tore his gaze away from her and looked at the sky, “It’s getting dark, let’s head back, shall we?” She nodded as she capped and pocketed the tube. He turned on his heel and began the trek back to the castle. She took a deep breath and followed.

* * *

Hermione finished toweling off and slipped into her night clothes, pulling her robe over her pajama set as she exited the bathroom. Malfoy had let her have priority in their private bath and instead went to the prefect's bathroom to bathe. He hadn’t yet returned so she took the opportunity to take advantage of their kitchenette, brewing tea the muggle way. She had just taken the tea off the burner when Malfoy returned, his hair wet and unmade, falling haphazardly once again, in a light grey jumper and black trousers.

“Do you sleep in that?” She laughed without thinking.

Malfoy looked down at himself, “Of course not, but I’m not going to walk through the halls in my night clothes.” He scoffed.

“Fair enough,” Hermione giggled then raised the kettle higher for him to see, “Would you like to join me for some tea?”

He nodded and began to move across the room, “I’ll start the fire.”

Hermione grabbed two mugs and balanced them in her hand as she carried the kettle over to their usual spots, setting each item down one by one.

“Why don’t you just levitate them?” He asked.

Hermione quirked her head and looked down at him, “Well, I suppose it’s the same reason you’ve chosen to carry me rather than using a levitation charm.” Her heartbeat quickened as she saw pink growing at the tip of his ears and she took her seat, “I don’t use magic to solve all my problems.” She shrugged.

Malfoy refused to meet her gaze as he quickly poured himself a cup of tea and waited briefly before taking a sip. He looked at the tea and then to her and asked, “What kind of tea is this?”

“Lavender.” Hermione said quietly as she filled her own mug. “It helps me sleep.”

“Is that why you were passed out in the chair? Too much lavender tea?” His embarrassment had clearly melted away at this point.

“No,” she shook her head as she took a drink, “my mind was far too busy that night, I tried to do some reading to calm it and I’m afraid it worked too well.” She shrugged.

“Do you normally have trouble sleeping?” Malfoy asked quietly.

She looked at him, his ears no longer pink, but still refusing to meet her gaze, she sighed, “Yes, I honestly haven’t slept very well since the war,” she pulled her robe tightly around herself, “when I do manage to get to sleep, I sleep very deeply because my body is so exhausted,” she laughed, “so I sleep really well about once or twice a month.”

“Do you not take anything?” Malfoy had finally turned towards her at this point, looking visibly concerned. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“I guess I don’t want to become reliant on anything,” she shrugged.

Any previous concern for her had quickly melted from his face as he sat his tea down, “Are you serious, Granger?”

“I told you, I don’t like to solve all my problems with magic,” she chuckled.

“Do you know what I would do for one dreamless sleep potion?” He stared at her coldly.

“I… I’m sorry, Malfoy, I don’t understand.” Hermione scanned his face, trying to discern his emotion.

“I, I’m not allowed to have any kind of sleeping drought while under probation,” he said quietly as he let his head fall into his hand.

There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by the crackling fire. Hermione rolled a few ideas around in her head before standing up and making her way to the bookcase.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked quietly from behind her.

“Looking for something,” she muttered as she scanned for the red spine, “Have you heard of Edgar Allan Poe?”

“Isn’t that the author of the book you were reading the other night?” 

“Yes, he’s one of my favorite muggle authors,” Hermione cooed as she found the book and pulled it from the shelf, turning to Malfoy, “Have you finished your tea?”

Malfoy looked at her for a moment, then swallowed the last of his tea, set his cup down and nodded.

“Great! Then follow me,” she smiled as she reached to pull him out of the armchair, he resisted at first, “please, just let me try something.” She gave a slight pout and he finally sighed and stood. She held her grip on his wrist and led him to the chaise lounge on the opposite side of the dorm and motioned to it with a smile, “lie down.”

Hermione watched as his brows stitched together and a look of skepticism grew across his face, causing her to feel embarrassed. She gently pushed and said, “Don’t just stare at me, go on!”

He moved slowly but ultimately did as she asked, letting out a sigh and a, “what now, Granger?”

She smiled and moved to sit on the ground in front of him, opening the book in her lap, “Now, you close your eyes and listen.”

Malfoy squinted at her, but she refused to look away from him, his grey eyes, his porcelain skin, his under eyes stained slightly purple. He let out another sigh, turned away from her, and closed his eyes.

“Good, now keep them closed,” she cleared her throat and began, “ _ At midnight, in the month of June—.” _

“What are you doing?” Malfoy’s eyes snapped open and he turned his heads towards her.

“CLOSE YOUR EYES AND RELAX, MALFOY!” Hermione gritted through her teeth with a stern look on her face. Malfoy glared at her once more before turning back with a huff and closing his eyes. She began again, “ _ At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. . .” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reads the opening couplet to “The Sleeper” by Edgar Allan Poe and the title of the chapter is also taken from this poem as well. I recommend reading it in its entirety, you can do so here https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48629/the-sleeper-56d22a05d79d5. I am personally a huge fan of Poe, but this poem was almost too fitting for our dear Draco, so I had to use it. <3


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